


The Drunk Leading the Blind

by juanjoltaire



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blindness, Domestic Fluff, Eye Trauma, M/M, Masturbation, Pining, sexual awakening
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-16
Updated: 2015-06-11
Packaged: 2018-03-30 18:26:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 29,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3947095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juanjoltaire/pseuds/juanjoltaire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Enjolras is maced at a protest, he is left blinded, unclear whether or not he will recover. Grantaire volunteers himself as Enjolras's seeing-eye dog to guide him through his everyday life, while Enjolras remains clueless about how Grantaire feels about him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Blindness

**Author's Note:**

> So to preface, I started writing this fic in 2013. I had it in mind because, if you're familiar with my [art blog](http://juanjoltaire.tumblr.com/), my banner has always been a picture of Enjolras with his eyes covered up. After a very similar fic request came up on makinghugospin, I finally posted a little of it, and now decided to revamp and finish it. It's a mix of domestic fluff and sad things and a bit embarrassing imo but there you are.

“Hey look over here, the pretty boy thinks he’s so tough!” 

Enjolras bared his teeth as he turned in the direction of the voice. On the other side of the barricade, keeping the crowd back from city hall, were a couple of riot police, pacing casually as if all of this amused them. They were staring, laughing at Enjolras, who was at the front right up against the iron bars with the rest of the ABC Society beside him, rage coursing through their blood.

“You little shits go home!” said the other policeman. “Your whining ain’t gonna do jack.”

“It’s people like you,” growled Enjolras. “That make me weep for my country.”

“What was that?” The first walked over, banging his shield up against the iron bar in front of Enjolras.

“Sounded like a personal attack to me,” spat the other. 

There was a surge in the crowd and they were crushed forward, Enjolras hitting the bar, getting pushed toward the policeman.

“Back off!” the guard cried.

“Enjolras,” Combeferre was right there behind him, an arm at his back. “Are you alright?” 

“I’m fine, I just-”

Another wave nearly sent him toppling over the barricade, arms flailing out for balance and hitting the policeman. Combeferre reached and managed to haul him back, but the guards were right there.

“Behind the rail!!” the one screamed, holding out his weapon. 

“He’s getting unruly!” The other policeman shouted.

“It was an accident!” Enjolras snarled back. “Can’t you see what’s going on here? Are you really so-” 

“Enjolras!“ Combeferre warned, a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t.”

“I ain’t warning you again!” The guard yelled.

“Ow!” Enjolras couldn’t help but yelp as a stranger behind him shoved him into the iron barricade. “Watch it!” he growled, spinning to see who had done it, but the protest sign in his hand knocked against the guard’s riot shield. 

“That’s it!” the policeman shouted.

Enjolras turned back to explain, but the policeman raised his arm, something clutched in his grip. And then Enjolras felt the burning liquid hit his eyes and it was all he could do not to scream.

“ _No!_ ” he heard Combferre shout, reaching for him, but the policeman let out another cry and he sprayed them again. 

Enjolras couldn’t breathe, the mace clouding the air, spilling into his lungs, suffocating him. He fell limp into the arms of someone behind him, praying it was one of his friends as he fought for air, his eyes shut tight, the burning unstoppable. 

He heard his friends screaming in protest, the ones who weren’t coughing from the mace in the air, and he felt hands upon him, hauling him away through the crowd, bodies knocking into him as they went. The suffocating was getting worse, and even though he gasped for air it didn’t seem to help, when suddenly…he felt the open air. They had made it through the crowd.

“Where can we go?” he heard Jehan cry.

“M-my place,” Combeferre coughed weakly. “It’s the closest.”

Enjolras was dragged along at first, but since he couldn’t seem to make his feet obey, he found himself being lifted off the ground and carried down the street. Even with the impossible pain in his throat, he seemed to be capable of taking in oxygen and focused on breathing, his burning eyes squeezed shut. 

“Is he okay?” Courfeyrac said.

Enjolras weakly shook his head, not sure if Courfeyrac was even referring to him but attempting to answer anyway.

“We’ll check inside. N-not much further,” Combeferre said.

“Give me your glasses, they’re a mess,” Courfeyrac's voice trailed off in the direction of Combeferre. 

It seemed an eternity later that Enjolras heard a door opening, and felt his rescuer ascending the stairs, panting with the effort of carrying him. The frantic voices of his friends echoed all around him in the stairwell as they raced up to the apartment. Another door opened, and he was lowered, laid down on the familiar cushions of Combeferre’s couch. He was somewhat comforted in all the chaos that he was somewhere safe now, relieved to hear the closing of the apartment door behind them. 

“Get some milk,” Courfeyrac said. 

“Milk, why milk?” Marius asked.

“It neutralizes burning.”

“Pepper spray though. That was mace,” Jehan cut in.

“Are you sure?”

“What’s the difference?”

“Mace is a lot worse.”

“But isn’t mace a spice too? Like pepper?”

“No, I thought it was all chemicals…”

“I don’t know! I don’t fucking know!”

“Please! Let’s just try the milk,” Combeferre grunted, clearly in pain.

“I’ll get it,” Grantaire said. “Do you have an eyedropper?”

“Check the bathroom.” 

Now that they were safely at Combeferre’s, Enjolras’s friends went off on a venomous tirade against the police, their voices making his head pound. The swearing and yelling was growing louder, though Joly was continually telling them to keep it down so the rest of the building wouldn’t hear. Bahorel wanted to go back, and Jehan was scolding him. “Are you insane? Look what just happened.”

“So we’re just going to let them get away with it!?” Bahorel asked, incredulous.

Enjolras heard footsteps on the kitchen tiles, the opening of the fridge. “Got the milk,” Grantaire said hurriedly.

“Him first,” Combeferre urged.

“Of course.” 

Enjolras felt a gentle touch on his cheek, his face guided up as Grantaire knelt beside him in front of the couch. 

“Hey,” Grantaire said, his voice soft. “Can you open your eyes?”

Enjolras shook his head. He was afraid to open them, and wasn’t even sure if he would be able to.

“That’s alright. I’ll be careful.” Grantaire put his thumb over Enjolras’s eyelid. “Alright, first one,” he said, lifting up his eyelid as it fluttered in discomfort. “Oh god,” Grantaire breathed.

“What?”

“No, no it’s okay,” he said quickly, and Enjolras felt liquid dropping into his eye. Grantaire released his eyelid and Enjolras blinked a bit more, a tear of milk dripping down his cheek. “And the other.”

“Why did you say ‘oh god’?” Enjolras pressed again, scared.

“They’re just…really red. It’s a bit jarring,” he said as he treated the other eye. “Is this helping?”

“I’m not sure. Go tend Combeferre.”

“Alright.”

Enjolras was left alone but he heard Marius and Courfeyrac arguing about mace, seemingly looking it up on their phones. Jehan was still attempting to keep Bahorel in line, and it sounded like Joly was crying by himself, probably in the armchair by the TV. 

“Ferre,” Enjolras called after a moment. “Are you alright?”

“Yea,” he answered. “My glasses blocked most of it. My vision’s a bit blurry but I think I’m okay.”

“That’s good,” Enjolras said, his voice quiet. At least Combeferre wasn’t badly hurt…

“You’ll be okay,” Combeferre said, coming closer, bending down beside him. “Just go to sleep and it’ll feel better in the morning.”

“I don’t know if I can sleep but I want everyone to shut up… It hurts so much, Ferre.” His voice cracked as he spoke, embarrassed at how vulnerable he felt.

“Hold on.” Combeferre picked up Enjolras and took him into the bedroom, laying him down on the bed. “I’ll tell everyone to be quiet,” he said, removing Enjolras’s shoes. He left and came back shortly, “I’m not sure if painkillers will help but it can’t hurt to try.” He helped Enjolras sit up for a moment, pressing two pills into his hand. Enjolras took them obediently and Combeferre held the glass of water to his lips so he could swallow them down. “Good,” he concluded as he laid him back down. “Yell if you need me.” He shut the door, and Enjolras heard a stern “Everyone be quiet,” from the other side.

Enjolras lay there in agony, feeling as if his head was on fire, trying and failing to meditate the pain away. He heard the hushed voices of his friends on the other side of the door, every now and then the volume rising until someone reminded them to be quiet again. He didn’t know how long he lay there before passing out, more shutting down than actually falling asleep, but it was at least a reprieve from the pain…

When Enjolras woke up, he felt warmth, sunlight on his body. The sounds of his friends were absent, it was quiet. He was alone, Combeferre must have let him take his bed for the night, and his eyes weren’t hurting as much. There was still pain, but he felt a bit better, and he ventured to open his eyes.

There was nothing.

“Ferre!” he shouted. “Combeferre!” 

There was no answer at first, then a dull thumping and Combeferre burst in the door. “Enjolras? Are you okay?” 

“I can’t see,” Enjolras whispered mournfully.

Someone else came in, climbing onto the bed beside him, crawling over. “Let me see.” It was Courfeyrac, taking Enjolras’s face in his hands. “Oh god.“ He released him. “Can you see this?”

Enjolras’s vision was an expanse of murky emptiness, and he was unsure whether there were phantom shapes somewhere out there or not. “It’s…movement?”

“He’s waving his hand in front of your face,” Combeferre supplied in a panic.

“I don’t know…I…I just see a lot of grey…” Enjolras swallowed with difficulty.

“We have to take him to a doctor,” Courfeyrac said. 

“Immediately,” Combeferre agreed. “Oh fuck, I’m so sorry, Enj, what were we thinking? We should have taken you directly to the hospital and-”

“It’s not your fault,” Enjolras said, trying to steady his quickening heart. “The damage was done.” 

“Who should take him?” Courfeyrac asked.

There was silence, and Enjolras swallowed, realizing he was now a burden to his friends. “Can… anyone take me?”

“Grantaire’s raising his hand,” Combeferre said. Enjolras wasn’t even aware Grantaire was in the room. “Enj, let me take you,” Combeferre added. “I feel like this is my-“

“You have work,” Enjolras remembered. “No, I don’t want you to skip because of me. Let Grantaire do it.”

“I….Enjolras, Are you sure?” His voice dropped to a low whisper. “Do you remember the time that you asked him to-”

“I’m right here,” Grantaire cut in, his voice sounding from the doorway.

“It’s alright, Ferre.” Enjolras assured him. “That was different. I-I’m sure he can handle taking me to the doctor.”

“Thank you,” Grantaire huffed, clearly affronted. 

Combeferre grunted a little in his throat, but conceded. “Courf, go look up an eye doctor and tell them it’s an emergency. If they don’t have an opening, he’ll have to go to the hospital.”

“Ferre, are you okay?” Enjolras tried to take hold of his wrist, but failed to find it, his hand falling useless to the bedspread. 

“Yea, I’m fine, it just… it hurts to read, but it’s not a problem. I’m okay. Let me make you something to eat.” Combeferre got up, padding out of the room.

“Okay,” Enjolras said, completely lost. Usually he was the one taking charge, but now he had no choice but to sit here, helpless and fearful. He could feel the warmth of Courfeyrac still beside him on the bed. “Is everyone still here?”

“Nope, it’s just us four for now. The others went home to sleep. Ferre and I slept on the couch together and Grantaire was on the floor.”

“Someone could have come in here with me,” Enjolras said guiltily, feeling as if he had put them out.

“Nah…” Courfeyrac patted his shoulder. “It’s alright. We didn’t want to wake you in case you had actually gone to sleep.” He got up off the bed. “I’m going to make the call.”

Then it was quiet, and Enjolras felt everything closing in around him, confused as to how one could feel so alone with three other people in the apartment. “Grantaire?” he called out softly.

“I’m right here.” Grantaire moved closer and sat down on the edge of the bed nearby.

“You slept on the floor?” Enjolras asked. He was shocked that Grantaire had stayed. Grantaire wasn’t close to him like Courfeyrac and Combeferre were, and he didn’t have the best track record of being responsible, as Combeferre had been trying to point out. But he had showed up to the protest, and sober as well, much to Enjolras’s surprise

“Yea,” Grantaire replied, and Enjolras felt a hand on his. “I wanted to make sure you were alright.” He swallowed. “But you’re not, are you…”

“I…I’ll be fine…” Enjolras’s voice wavered, unable to convince himself.

He was caught off guard as Grantaire’s arms encircled him, pulling him into a hug. Enjolras let out a soft breath, confused, before giving up and limply falling against him, pressing his face into his shirt. The smell of him was comforting and somewhat familiar... Grantaire ran his hand through Enjolras’s hair, stroking it lightly. “I’m here for you.”

“Thank you,” Enjolras whispered mournfully.

\--

Courfeyrac managed to convince an eye doctor across town to take an emergency appointment, while Enjolras sipped on the smoothie Combeferre made him, thankfully something he didn’t need to see to consume. When it was all arranged, Grantaire escorted him down the stairs, Enjolras holding on to the railing for dear life. “You know, I could just carry you like last night…” Grantaire offered.

“No, I can do this…” Enjolras said stubbornly, cautiously taking another step. “Wait, that was you?”

“Yea, that was me,” Grantaire replied, his voice quiet. 

Enjolras felt his face flushing, not used to being treated like such a vulnerable specimen. “You’re strong, then. You carried me a long way.” He understood now why Grantaire had smelled familiar.

“Adrenaline, I guess…” Grantaire was dismissive as if it was nothing, still holding onto Enjolras’s hand tightly as they slowly traversed the stairwell.

“Thank you,” Enjolras said again, wishing he could meet his eyes as he said it. 

“No need to thank me, Enjolras,” Grantaire replied. “I would do it again.”

“Thank you, but… I think you helping me like this is just fine for now.”

They made it to the bottom of the stairs, and Grantaire led him outside to the street. Enjolras suddenly found himself in a world of sound, hearing the cars rushing past, the rumble of a bus stopping at the corner, people walking around them as if they were an obstacle on the sidewalk. Enjolras nervously squeezed Grantaire’s hand, and Grantaire pulled him closer, steering him over to somewhere where they could stand still. “Just a sec,” he said. 

Suddenly there was a shrill, high pitched sound resonating in Enjolras’s ear and he cried out, shocked. “Oh, sorry! Sorry!” Grantaire was apologetic, stroking Enjolras’s hair in an attempt to soothe him, his fingers brushing over his ear. It was a few seconds before Enjolras realized the noise had been Grantaire whistling for a taxi. Grantaire laughed softly beside him. “I just thought you might like to be deaf, too,” he joked.

Enjolras was feeling so odd he couldn’t help but laugh, wondering why he hadn’t allowed himself to spend much time with Grantaire before. Then he heard the taxi pull up to the curb and Grantaire opened the door for him, guiding him inside. On the way to the doctor they were quiet, but Grantaire kept hold of his hand, even though there was no need to. Enjolras was glad for the comfort, knowing that someone, his friend, was there for him while he was lost in this strange world of grey light.

Enjolras thought Grantaire would stay in the waiting room, when he was finally called into see the doctor, but Grantaire went right in with him, guiding him as if it wasn’t even a question. He heard Grantaire take a seat in the corner after setting him in the chair, while the nurse got to work asking him questions, mostly about what happened the night before and what they’d done about it so far. Then the doctor came in, and there were several tests he failed miserably. He couldn’t see that there were letters on the chart, let alone a chart in front of him, although he realized the shapes moving back and forth were the doctor and nurse walking around him. His eyes were examined up close, his lids held back while they cleaned them with a solution. He saw bright white suddenly, a light shining directly in his eyes for a time. Enjolras was hoping for a miracle but there was no change. And then when the doctor spoke, his heart sunk.  
“I’m afraid I we can’t say anything for certain at this time. There’s a possibility the damage could be permanent.”

Enjolras let out a sound of distress, and suddenly Grantaire was right there, taking Enjolras’s hand in his own. Enjolras squeezed it hard, his fingers tensing in fear.

“Mace is made up of several dangerous chemicals, and you were sprayed at close proximity. It’s very destructive, it can dry up the retinas completely in some cases. That being said, your pupils _are_ reacting to light, which is a good sign, though there is extensive damage to your corneas. I can’t make any promises, but there’s a chance that you might recover from this. You haven’t gone blind _yet._ I ask that you wear this…” As the doctor was speaking, Enjolras felt a gauze bandage being wrapped around his eyes and the back of his head. The nurse was tending to him, and Grantaire released Enjolras’s hand to give her room to work. Enjolras’s world went from grey to completely black as the bandage covered his eyes. “It will keep your eyes from being exposed to anything else while they attempt to heal. You can remove it while bathing or sleeping, but keep it on the rest of the time. We’ll have to see how it goes. I’d like you to make an appointment as soon as there’s a change, for better or worse.”

They left the doctor’s office, after Grantaire had filled out some paperwork and slipped Enjolras’s new medications into his backpack. With a heavy heart, Enjolras stepped out onto the sidewalk, bandaged in darkness. He thought he would have been leaving with more optimistic news, but now he had no idea what the future held. The doctor hadn’t seemed too hopeful. “I’ll get a cab,” Grantaire said, his voice solemn.

“No. Please, I want to walk home. Through the park.” 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Enjolras replied resolutely.

“Okay, stay close,” Grantaire led him over to the crosswalk, waiting patiently for the signal. Enjolras appreciated for the first time the chirping noise the streetlight made for the vision impaired, signaling it was safe to cross. Still, he was tentative as they stepped down off the curb, though he knew Grantaire wouldn’t have led him into open traffic.

“Are people staring?” Enjolras asked, aware how strange he must look in his bandage, being pulled around.

“No,” Grantaire replied quickly.

“It’s okay, Grantaire, you don’t have to lie. I’d prefer it if you didn’t.”

“…some people,” he admitted. “But don’t worry about it, it doesn’t matter.”

“Right.” It upset Enjolras to think that people, even strangers, would perceive him as helpless. He was already trying hard to convince _himself_ he wasn’t.

After they had walked for a bit, he caught the scent of flowers in bloom all around them in the air. “We’ve reached the park,” Enjolras announced.

“Yes, we’re here,” Grantaire confirmed, and Enjolras suddenly felt the soft ground under his shoes as they took a step off the concrete.

“Can we sit, for a minute?” he asked Grantaire.

“Of course.”

They sat in the grass beneath a tree, as Grantaire informed him, though Enjolras could tell by the change in temperature they were in the shade. He lay back in the grass, staring out at the dark within his bandaged eyelids as if the leaves and the sky above would be revealed, if he concentrated hard enough.

“Enjolras…” Grantaire started. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m… I’m thinking I…” He feared he was going to choke on his words, so he paused to take a breath. “What good am I, like this? What could I do for anyone?”

“Lots of things. You can still-”

“I can’t even _read,_ ” Enjolras interrupted. “How can anyone rely on me now?”

He heard Grantaire pick at the grass, fidgeting. “The doctors said there’s a chance…”

“A chance…” Enjolras repeated. “There’s a chance you’ll win the lottery, if you buy a ticket.”

“Your chances are greater than that.”

“But not greater than the chance that I’ll stay blind.”

“He didn’t say that.”

“I’m sure it was implied.”

Grantaire was silent.

“I’m sorry,” Enjolras said after a moment. “I don’t want to feel sorry for myself, it’s ugly.”

“You have every right to be angry. If talking like this helps, I don’t mind.”

“No, it’s not helping,” Enjolras sighed.

He heard Grantaire get up, the sound of the grass crackling under his feet as he walked away. Enjolras lay there, fighting his instinct to panic at being left alone. It was jarring not knowing what direction he was facing, what part of the park he was in, not knowing how he would even get home if he was left here. But soon he heard footsteps approaching again. “Grantaire?” He asked softly, just to check.

“Yes, I’m right here.” Grantaire dropped back down beside him.

“Next time, tell me where you’re going,” Enjolras said indignantly, a bit ashamed he had been fighting back fear. 

“I’m sorry. I just wanted to get this for you.” 

Enjolras was confused at first, but then smelled something fragrant right under his nose. He reached up and felt Grantaire’s hand, his fingers sliding up Grantaire’s until he felt the stem, then the soft petals of a flower in bloom. “Why?” he asked, bemused.

“I just… I don’t know. Something you can appreciate without your sight.”

“Yes. Thank you,” he said quietly, the scent calming him at least. “What color is it?”

“Red,” Grantaire supplied. “A carnation.”

Enjolras remained silent for a long time, just simply holding the flower, his hand frozen. Grantaire lay down beside him in the grass. “What will happen,” Enjolras finally asked, “if I remain blind?”

“I’ll be your seeing-eye dog.” 

Enjolras breathed out a bitter laugh. “I’m asking a serious question.”

“I gave you a serious answer. But if you don’t like it then I’ll give you some more… you’ll listen to audiobooks, you’ll learn braille…you can voice command your phone to call and text people…you can record yourself, to write your speeches….” But Grantaire trailed off, seeming to run out of things to say.

“I won’t be able to see my friends again…” Enjolras’s voice was hollow.

“We’ll still be right here. And you can see us, in your head, in your dreams, you’ll remember.”

Enjolras sniffed, a choking sound escaping his throat and Grantaire gasped, taking his hand. “No, no don’t cry, please don’t cry, Enj.”

“I’m not going to cry,” Enjolras said stubbornly, though his voice wavered, his eyes burning fiercely.

“If you cry you’ll get your bandage wet and we can’t take it off…” Grantaire sounded distressed, as if he were going to cry too. 

Enjolras pulled his hand back, annoyed, but Grantaire’s reminder forced him to hold back his tears and he took a deep breath, and another. “…I’m ready to go home now.”

“Where do you live?”

“At the corner of Fifth and Main. It’s a large brick building.” He heard Grantaire stand up, and Enjolras tentatively held out his hand again so Grantaire could pull him to his feet. Enjolras kept the flower safely in his other hand. 

“I’ve never been to your place before.”

“It’s nothing special. It’s probably a bit of a mess right now. Lots of papers and books.”

“You think I’m not used to mess?” Grantaire asked, sounding as if he was smiling.

“No, I suppose _you_ would be.” 

Hand in hand, Grantaire escorted Enjolras safely to his own apartment. Enjolras handed him the key and they went up in the elevator together to his apartment. 

“What number?”

“307.”

He heard Grantaire turn the key and they went in. “This is nice,” Grantaire remarked as he shut the door behind them.

“I can’t remember the state it’s been left in.”

“Looks fairly clean to me.” Grantaire set down his backpack, his voice drifting away as he walked around. “Nice kitchen.” 

“Thank you.”

“Are you hungry?”

“Yes, I- Wait. Grantaire, my phone, it’s ringing.” Enjolras took out his phone and held it up. “Who is it?”

Grantaire came back over to inspect. “It’s Combeferre.” 

“Answer it.” 

“Why me?” 

Enjolras swallowed. “Because if I talk to him, I _will_ cry.”

“Ah.” Grantaire took the phone out of his hand, and Enjolras felt around for the couch. He found it and sunk into it. “Hi….no this is Grantaire… No, we’re done there…Well, he doesn’t think he can talk right now… ” 

Enjolras could hear Combeferre’s voice rising on the other end, panicking. His head started pounding. “Grantaire…”

“Hold on,” Grantaire said to Combeferre before coming over to him, his voice low. “What is it, Enj?”

“Can you go in the bedroom? I don’t…want to hear it over again, not right now.”

“Yea, of course.” Grantaire walked off, shutting the bedroom door behind him before continuing. Even though the words were muffled, Enjolras lay down and put one of the couch pillows over his head, trying to drown out the sound completely.

About ten minutes later, he felt a hand on his foot. “I’ve told him,” Grantaire said softly.

“How’d he take it?”

“You’re not blind yet, Enjolras,” Grantaire reminded him. “We’re both hoping it’s going to be okay.” 

Grantaire poked him with the phone, and Enjolras took it, setting it on the coffee table in front of him. “I don’t want to talk to anyone right now.”

“Should I go?”

“No, I meant anyone else.” Enjolras sat up. “I’m glad I’m not alone. Please, stay, if that’s alright. But if you have other things-”

Grantaire took his hand. “I want to help you. Honestly. There isn’t anywhere else I need to be than here.”

“Okay…” Enjolras nodded. “I’m sorry, all the same. Being dependent is…well, I feel like a child.”

“Don’t apologize. Please. You don’t have to feel bad, not for me. Now, you said you were hungry?”

“Yes, but I can do it.” Enjolras got up to go to his kitchen, feeling his way around the couch and finding the counter. He heard his phone vibrate on the coffee table and sound of a text. “What’s it say?”

“It’s Jehan. He’s asking how you are. Should I send him a bunch of random letters so he gets the point?’”

Enjolras coughed out a bitter laugh. He heard Grantaire send a text back. “You didn’t!”

“I said, ‘Call Combeferre. – R’” 

“Oh. Good.” Enjolras felt his way to the fridge, then the freezer, knowing he had some frozen food he could easily throw in the oven. He felt around for the pizza box and pulled it out, setting it on the counter. Bending down, he found the sheet pan in the cabinet, and unwrapped the frozen pizza. And then… he didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t read the temperature on the box, and even if he had a guess, he couldn’t set the oven by feel alone. He stood there, his fingers tensing on the edge of the metal pan, as the panic came rushing back, the helplessness threatening to overtake him. “Grantaire,” he said softly, but suddenly he was shaking in frustration, his lip quivering. “Grantaire!” 

“What, what I’m here!” Grantaire bounded into the kitchen, taking him by the shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m _blind_ , that’s what’s wrong!” Enjolras shouted, trying to pull away from him. “I can’t even eat!” He dropped the cardboard box on the floor, breathing heavily. “I’m useless…” He leaned on the counter, feeling tears soaking his bandage. “Fucking pigs…” he whispered.

“Shh…” Grantaire turned him and took him into his arms, holding him tightly. “It’s alright.”

“It’s not alright,” Enjolras protested stiffly, his mouth against Grantaire’s shirt.

“It’s going to be alright. Maybe not today. Soon.” 

“You don’t know that.”

“It will be okay, whatever happens. You will learn to live should the worst happen. I know you.”

Enjolras’s brows furrowed at the words. _Do you, Grantaire? I don’t know you that well._

“You’re courageous and determined. You crave freedom, your independence, and you’ll do anything to overcome what holds you down. You’ll get through it.” Grantaire’s hand stroked his back soothingly. “And I’ll be here to help you.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to.”

“You want to today. Think if you had to do it every day. A chore.”

“You could never be a chore.”

Enjolras simply shook his head, resigning. “Help me make this stupid pizza.”

“Of course.” Grantaire let him go, and Enjolras heard him scoop the box off the ground and set the oven. 

“My hero…” Enjolras admitted pathetically. 

“Nah, c’mon now,” Grantaire jostled his shoulder. 

“Mmf. ” Enjolras sighed, feeling worn out, realizing he was still in yesterday’s clothes. “Grantaire,” he started reluctantly. “I want to…” He paused, unsure.

“Hm?”

“No, it’s okay. Let’s just eat first.” 

Enjolras found it hard to enjoy the food; eating without the use of his eyes made him feel clumsy and inept. After they’d finished their pizza and cleaned up, sitting back on the couch, Enjolras felt a soft poke on his leg. “So what was it you wanted to ask me?” Grantaire asked curiously.

“Oh.” He paused. “I-I wanted to know if you would help me… with my homework assignment. If you’d read to me from my textbook.”

“Oh, just that?” 

Enjolras bit his lip, not sure what to say, but Grantaire sighed dismissively. “Whatever, that’s easy. Of course I can do that. Where’s your book?”

“It’s on my bed. The page numbers are on a memo on my phone.”

Grantaire got up and came back, settling on the couch again. “Okay, pages 253-275, ready.”

He started to read to him, and Enjolras did his best to pay attention, but he was thinking of the doctor. The night at Combeferre’s. The police. It pained him to think that the last thing he saw wasn’t something pleasant, not his friends, nothing comforting, but a policeman, spraying him in the face. He thought of how he wouldn’t know what new people look like when he met them, how he couldn’t look at photos…colors...art… He put his hand to Grantaire’s leg. “I’m sorry, Grantaire. I haven’t been listening.”

“Oh. Do you…do you need me to start over?”

“No, no, I can’t listen to it at all right now. I’m sorry. Thank you for reading it, though. I shouldn’t have asked you to do that.”

“ _Five_ minutes of my life I will _never_ get back,” Grantaire joked, closing the book. “It’s really okay.”

“I…Grantaire,” Enjolras started slowly, finally getting up the courage to express what he wanted. “Can I ask for your help? I’d like to take a shower.”

“O-oh, of course,” Grantaire stuttered out. 

“I-I don’t mean to be weird or anything,” Enjolras quickly amended. “It’s just, I’m thinking about how I slipped one time, and that was when I actually _could_ see, and I don’t want to-” 

“Enj, it’s fine.” Grantaire seemed to have recovered. “I need a shower too so that works for me.”

“ _Oh._ ” Enjolras felt himself turn red. He hadn’t meant _that_ much help, he was simply hoping Grantaire would sit nearby in the bathroom but… he couldn’t deny it would be more practical, really, to have him standing right there.

“Is that not what you meant?” Grantaire had noticed his tone.

“No, no. Th-that’s fine. Neither of us have bathed since the fucking rally.”

“And could I borrow a clean shirt or something after? I don’t mean to-” 

“No, of course, Grantaire. It’s not a problem. You can borrow anything you need. It’s the least I can offer you back.”

Enjolras felt his way to the bathroom while Grantaire went to the dresser in his bedroom to lay out clothes for the two of them. Enjolras found the soft bathmat under his feet and disrobed, carefully folding his clothes and setting them on the floor. He opened the glass door to the shower and turned the dial, switching on the hot water. Then he waited for Grantaire, standing naked on the bathmat and covering himself with a towel. He knew better than to get in without him.

“Oh h-hey there, you’re all ready,” Grantaire said, coming into the bathroom.

“Yes, I just was waiting for you. This would be so much easier if I had a tub, then I could just sit and you wouldn’t have to do this.”

“No, trust me, Enjolras. It’s fine. Really.” Enjolras heard Grantaire’s clothes drop to the floor, and then he was taking his elbow gently. Enjolras let go of the towel. “Alright, we can… oh, wait. Your bandage.” Grantaire reached up and started to unwind it carefully. The darkness lifted a little from Enjolras’s eyes and his eyelids fluttered open. He could see the vague shapes again, a dark spot just in front of him. He reached out to touch it and found it was Grantaire’s dark curls. Grantaire laughed softly, taking him by the chin and tilting his head up to inspect him. 

“How do they look?” Enjolras asked.

“A bit red still, but better than last night. If I didn’t know what happened to you I might not guess there was anything wrong. Your eyes are still beautiful and blue even so.” Enjolras felt himself blushing at his words, but Grantaire released him to put the bandage on the bathroom counter. He returned, placing a hand on Enjolras’s back and turning him towards the shower doorway. “Go ahead,” Grantaire said softly. “I’ve got you. Just remember there’s a small step up.”

“Yes, I know.” Enjolras stepped up into the shower, one hand on the doorframe, and he went to stand under the water. Then Grantaire was in behind him, closing the door. “You can sit there,” Enjolras pointed, though he ended up poking Grantaire in the stomach. “Oh, sorry. Well, behind you.” There was a thick shelf built low on the shower wall, where Enjolras kept his shampoo bottles, originally meant to be a bench. 

“Okay,” Grantaire pushed the bottles aside and sat down to await his turn. Enjolras stood under the water, letting it soak into his hair, wishing it could wash away his thoughts as well. He had the urge to sink down and curl up on the shower floor, but thought it best not to do that in present company. “Close your eyes,” Grantaire reminded him. “Here.” Grantaire tucked the soap into his hand.

Enjolras shut his useless eyes and started lathering himself, rubbing the soap over his naked torso and limbs. He was acutely aware that he had an audience and tried not to mind. “Grantaire,” he said, sure he was red again. “It would help me feel more comfortable if you kept talking to me.”

“Oh, yes, sure,” Grantaire replied quickly, tripping over his words. “Um…let’s see… I….um…” 

“That’s alright, Grantaire. Sorry. I’ll think of-” The soap slipped out of Enjolras’s hands, noisily dropping to the shower floor. “Shit,” he sighed. “Please don’t make any jokes.” He started to bend down but Grantaire stopped him.

“No, no, I’ll get it, stay there.” Enjolras stood back up, feeling Grantaire down on the floor beside him, his arm brushing up against his leg. Enjolras put his hand on Grantaire’s back, feeling steadier, and then the soap was being placed back into his hands as Grantaire withdrew back to the seat.

“Thank you.” Enjolras finished soaping himself, the suds running down his body as he rinsed under the steaming water, and he asked Grantaire for the shampoo. As he washed his hair, he thought for a moment to come up with something to talk about. “Grantaire, what color are your eyes?”

“Hm?”

“You saying that about my eyes, it made me think, well… I’m not sure what yours are like.”

Grantaire was quiet, then, “I’ll have you guess.”

“Don’t embarrass me, I’ll get it wrong.”

“No, no. Think about it. We’re back in the café, you turn to me, we lock eyes. What do you remember?”

Enjolras thought as he stood under the water, picturing what he was describing. He wasn’t imagining it though, he had a real memory in mind. “…they’re also blue,” he said, though a bit unsure. “Not the same color as mine, but blue.”

“Yes. That’s right. I won’t have you forget what I look like.”

Enjolras was relieved that his memory didn’t fail him, and he reached out in the direction of Grantaire. “We can switch now.”

Grantaire took his hand, getting up and turning them around, gently pushing him down onto the seat. Enjolras could have asked to get out, but it seemed polite to wait. Grantaire groaned softly as he stepped under the water. 

“Grantaire?”

“Sorry, it’s just a bit... hot in here,” he said awkwardly.

“Too hot?” Enjolras asked, confused. “I thought the water was nice.”

“No it’s nice, it’s perfect.” They were silent for a moment, Enjolras just listening to the water running down Grantaire. “Enj, I should probably tell you, you’re staring directly at my-”

“Oh!” Enjolras turned his head and looked up towards the ceiling, terribly embarrassed. “Sorry, you know I can’t see!”

“No, i-it’s fine. Just a bit odd, knowing you’re really staring into space.”

“Sorry,” Enjolras apologized again, bringing his feet up onto the bench, wanting to curl up in shame. “I must look so strange, without the bandage on, focusing on nothing.”

“Not really new, I’ve seen that look before. You just look lost in thought, mostly.”

“I am. More than ever.” Enjolras felt a hand on his head, patting him gently as Grantaire picked up one of the shampoo bottles beside him.

“You’ll find your way. I know you will.”

Enjolras smiled faintly at that. “You know, I used to think you were incorrigible, Grantaire, but I’m glad to know you have faith in something. Even if it’s just me.”

“Yes, I do. I know you’ll be okay. ...I’m kinda glad you can’t see me now, though.” 

“Why is that?”

“Because I look _ridiculous_ when my hair is wet.”

Enjolras laughed. “What do you mean?” He stood up, holding out his hand. Grantaire obliged, guiding it over to feel the wet curls spilling into his face, around his nose, flattened at the top of his head. Enjolras grinned. “I’m imagining a sheepdog.”

“Close.” Grantaire let him go but Enjolras remained standing, keeping his hand on Grantaire’s shoulder for support while he finished rinsing out his hair. When he was done, he turned off the water and guided Enjolras out, hands at his waist. “Step down.” Then he handed him a towel, and went off to get one for himself.

“Thank you, for doing that,” Enjolras said as he ran the towel over his damp body.

“No problem, thanks for letting me join you,” he replied back. 

After drying off, they went to the bedroom and Grantaire handed him a clean t-shirt and boxers to put on. Enjolras felt his way into them and climbed up onto his bed to lie down. “Hey, you forgot something,” Grantaire said. He left and came back, sitting down on the mattress beside him. “Sit up,” he said, and Enjolras sat up obediently.

He felt Grantaire wrapping the bandage carefully back around his eyes, trying to place it just right, and everything went dark again. Enjolras sighed softly.

“Are you tired?”

“No, I just don’t know what to do with myself.”

“Homework again?”

“Please, no. Did Combeferre say he was going to come by later?”

“I told him to call back to see how you were, when he was done with work.”

“Okay. “ Enjolras lay back down on the pillow, breathing deeply, telling himself to relax. He wasn’t used to being less than productive.

“Listen, I’ve got a book I’ve been carrying around in my backpack. I’ve finished it but I could read it to you, if you want.”

“What is it?”

“It’s a Greek mythology book. It’s quite beautiful and I kind of… identify with it, I don’t know. I really liked it.”

“Is it sad?”

“Yes but we won’t get that far,” he laughed softly. “I would have to read for a long time.”

“Well I might be blind for a while,” Enjolras sighed. “Go ahead, I’ll try to listen this time.”

“It’s more interesting than a textbook, I promise.” Grantaire left to retrieve the book from his backpack. When he came back, he gently pulled the blankets aside. “Scooch.” Enjolras moved over to make room for him and Grantaire got in the bed beside him, stealing a pillow so he could sit up to read. “It’s about Achilles and Patroclus. Do you know it?”

“If you’re about to read to me from the Iliad, I’d rather something else. That’s-” 

“No, don’t worry, this starts out before all that.” Grantaire began to read, and Enjolras listened for a while, laying his head down on the pillow, his eyes still hurting even with the painkillers. The story started off with young Patroclus, plain and shunned, sent off by his father to live in another kingdom, where there was a beautiful, blonde prince, who stood out from all the other boys…

“Grantaire,” Enjolras interrupted. “I’m a little tired now to tell you the truth. It sounds nice, but if you don’t mind I’d like to rest a bit.”

“That’s okay,” Grantaire said. “Should I go home?”

“Yes, I don’t want to keep you here. I’ll call if I need help, okay? Maybe we can read the book later.”

“Okay.” Grantaire squeezed his hand gently.

Enjolras heard him set the book on the nightstand as he left, going to the living room for his bag. “Lock the door behind me,” he called out as he went.

Enjolras crawled out of bed to go lock the door, and found his phone on the coffee table before returning to the bedroom. He waited for a bit, trying to sleep, but it wasn’t long before Combeferre called, as promised.

He clumsily fussed with the touchscreen, hoping he picked up the call. “Ferre?”

“Enj. Hi. How are you doing?”

“Not better or worse. Just here.”

“Is Grantaire still with you?”

“No, I’m just here in bed.”

“Do you want me to come over?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe. I don’t know.”

“Do you need help with dinner?” Combeferre asked.

“I’ve got leftover pizza now, it’s okay.” Then, as if to assure himself, he added, “I can figure out the microwave by touch.”

“I’m going to call the school, to let them know you can’t be expected to have your assignments ready this week.”

Enjolras groaned. “Oh god. I’m going to be so behind,” he whimpered.

“I can come help you do the homework.”

“Yes, thank you. Tomorrow.”

“Do you still want to have our regular meeting tomorrow night?”

“Oh.” Enjolras hadn’t even remembered that. “I’m not sure. On the one hand, if we call it off the guys will all think I’m in critical condition, and on the other hand if we have the meeting, this might be all we end up talking about. I don’t know if I want that.”

“Well, let’s just see how you feel. There might be an improvement.”

“Ugh, Ferre, I hope so.”

Enjolras spent the evening alone, figuring out the microwave successfully, turning on the tv to listen to the news, feeling frustrated when he couldn’t see what was on screen. When he finished washing his dinner plate, he smelled something nice, and he reached out, looking for the source. His hand bumped into something, and he heard glass shattering on the floor around him. He shrieked, bending down, unaware of what he knocked over. His fingers grazed shards of broken glass, and water seeped under his feet on the kitchen tiles. He started to panic, feeling tentatively for how far the mess spread, and his hands fell on something soft. He picked it up, realizing it was his carnation and that Grantaire must have put it in a vase on the kitchen counter. 

Enjolras started to cry, feeling clumsy and stupid, despondent that there was broken glass all over the floor he couldn’t see. He pulled his bandage off, not wanting to get it wet, and noticed it was just as dark when he removed it. He wasn’t sure if he had gotten worse or if it was just simply nighttime, but it made him cry harder in his confusion. He crawled out of the kitchen, away from the broken glass and leaned on the side of the couch, curling up on the floor with his knees drawn to his chest. He wanted to make a phone call but he wasn’t sure how, not knowing how to find the person he needed without seeing the screen. He sobbed into the fabric of the sofa for a few lonely minutes before remembering what Grantaire had said, about using the voice commands on the phone.

He pressed the button to activate the voice command function. “Call Grantaire,” he said shakily.

Grantaire picked up after a single ring. “Hi. Are you okay?” he asked, sounding as if he was out on the street.

“I need help,” Enjolras said, his voice wavering.

“Oh no, Enj, I’m coming right now, I’m already on my way.” His voice was full of concern. “I left your medicine in my backpack, I’ll be there soon. Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I’m not sure,” he said. “I’ll be fine until you get here. I won’t move.”

“Okay, I’ll hurry. I’ve still got your key, too.”

Not too long after, Enjolras heard heavy footsteps out in the hallway, a key frantically fitted into the door. “It’s dark,” Grantaire said blankly, flipping the light switch. Enjolras saw grey again, and the shape of Grantaire running to him. “Why are you on the floor?” he protested, taking Enjolras’s hands. “Where’s your bandage….and you’re bleeding…”

“Where?” Enjolras asked, unable to stop from tearing up again. 

“Your hand,” he said, his fingers stroking it. “There blood on the carpet too. What happened?”

“The flower,” he whimpered. “I didn’t know it was there. The vase fell.”

Grantaire got up to go to the kitchen, turning on another light. “Oh jeez, okay. I’ll clean it up, don’t cry. It’s not a big deal. Let me fix your hand first.” He came back, sitting on the floor beside him and dabbing his hand with a cloth soaked in hot water. 

“I didn’t even feel it,” Enjolras said, a little confused.

“Glass can do that sometimes. I broke a coffee mug one time and I didn’t even realize it cut me til I saw the blood.”

“Is it bad?”

“No, not bad. Just a small slice. Why did you take off your bandage?”

“I was crying.”

“…I wish I had stayed.”

“It’s my fault. I told you to go.”

“Don’t worry. It’s done.” He rummaged around in his backpack. “There’s a whole roll of gauze from the doctor to make you new bandages. So here.” He started wrapping his hand up with care. “See, it’s fine.”

“’See’…” Enjolras repeated back, grumbling.

“Augh, you know what I meant.” Grantaire got up to take care of the rest. 

“I’m sorry you have to clean up my mess. I'm pathetic.” 

“No, I should have told you I put something there. You didn’t know.” 

Enjolras heard the tinkling of the glass as Grantaire swept it up. “And the flower?”

“It’s wilted. Just a flower, Enjolras, it’s fine.”

“I was happy you gave it to me.”

“Well good. Maybe I’ll get you another one,” Grantaire said dismissively, but Enjolras still felt as if he had done something terrible.

“How much blood is on the carpet?” 

“Not a lot, I’ll clean it in a second. Don’t fret.”

Enjolras waited, staying where he was on the floor, afraid to move and ruin anything else while Grantaire cleaned up after him. After he had finished scrubbing the carpet and washed his hands clean, Enjolras reached up for him. Grantaire scooped him up into his arms and carried him into the bedroom, laying him down on the bed. “You okay?” he asked, his fingers brushing Enjolras’s cheek. 

“Better," Enjolras admitted reluctantly.

“Did you get some sleep while I was gone?” 

He shook his head. “I tried but I couldn’t.”

“Well maybe you can now. You ready for bed?”

“Yes, but...” Enjolras paused. His dependence on Grantaire was practically humiliating. 

“What is it?”

“I’d feel safer, if you stayed.”

“Of course.”

Grantaire helped him take his medicine and then went to turn off the lights around the apartment. When he came back, Enjolras heard him remove his pants before he crawled into bed beside him.

“Thanks for... everything, today,” Enjolras said, reaching out to find him. He felt Grantaire’s wrist, then drew his hand up to entwine their fingers.

“I want nothing more than to be here to help you. It’s no trouble at all.”

“I know but, thank you, all the same.”


	2. Dizziness

When Enjolras awoke, his heart plummeted. In his dream, he had _seen._ He had forgotten all that had happened, and saw his friends, their faces, their smiles. And now he was awake, staring out at vague shapes he couldn’t make sense of in this blank, grey world. He heard breathing and he turned, seeing a dark patch on the pillow beside him. He reached out and felt Grantaire’s hair beneath his fingers, the touch reassuring him. Enjolras didn’t want to wake him though, and got up to try his morning routine alone.

He went into the bathroom, finding his toothbrush, grooming himself, realizing how odd it was that he was standing in front of a mirror when it served him no purpose. He brushed his hair, not knowing if it looked alright, though by feel it seemed fine enough, then went into the kitchen, being careful this time in case of breakable objects, and found a bowl. He picked up a box in the pantry, and after feeling the contents inside for reassurance, poured the cereal out for his breakfast. When he got the milk from the fridge, he thought about how he’d never be able to read the expiration date on a milk carton again, if he really was to remain blind. He’d have to know by smell. Then he imagined himself buying the milk, trying to count cash but not being able to read what bills he gave to the cashier. He could be deceived, told he was paying the right amount while handing over far too much. The thought depressed him as he sat down on the couch with his cereal, brooding over the subject of human compassion while he ate.

“You have to wear your bandage,” Grantaire’s voice sounded from the bedroom doorway.

“Don't know where it is,” Enjolras replied back as he crunched his cereal.

“Don’t take that tone,” Grantaire scolded. “You _want_ to get better. It’s over here on the floor. Oh, but you got blood on it last night. I’ll make you a new one.” He heard Grantaire dispose of it before going to his bag and bringing out more gauze. He sat down beside Enjolras and started wrapping him up again. “The less exposure the better. Your eyes need as much rest as possible. Is…is there any improvement this morning?”

“I can’t say either way,” Enjolras replied honestly. “I didn’t spend much of yesterday analyzing how well I _couldn’t_ see. This morning, I don’t know. Everything’s still vague.”

“Alright.” He tucked the end of the bandage in at the back. “You just need more time then.”

“Yea,” Enjolras said dismissively. “Go help yourself to some food.”

Enjolras later sent Grantaire home again, assuring him he was alright, not wanting to take up all of his time. Though Grantaire protested it was no problem, Enjolras took his key back and let him go. Instead, he called Combeferre in. 

Combeferre immediately pulled him into a hug, then held his face, inspecting him furiously. “If you could see yourself in this thing," he growled. "My poor Enj-” 

“No, stop. Don’t start with the pity words, please,” Enjolras begged.

“Sorry, you’re right. I won’t.” Combeferre released him and settled down with him on the couch. He helped him attempt the homework again, this time actually getting through the reading without too much trouble. Then Enjolras told Combeferre what to type as he answered the essay questions. It felt easier to do this with Combeferre, since he was more studious and diligent about keeping Enjolras focused. 

“How about tonight’s meeting?” Combeferre's asked after they’ve finished the work.

“I want to attend. But... perhaps you and Courf could run it? I’ll just listen.”

“No problem.”

“Ferre.”

“Yes?”

“How am I supposed to help anyone,” he said slowly, sadly. “…if I can barely help myself?”

“Enjolras, you will get better. In one way or another, you will heal and move on with your life, and accomplish the things you need to. There will always be a place for you. No matter what happens.”

Enjolras nodded, feeling Combeferre’s hand on his.

“Was Grantaire good to you yesterday?”

“Oh yes. Very nice and helpful. It was almost surprising.”

“So…nothing like the guy that got us kicked out of that town hall meeting that time when he-”

“He was sick.”

“He was drunk, and you very well know that.”

“Well he wasn’t yesterday. We don’t need to hold that incident against him forever.”

“You don’t remember how mad you were?”

“I-I’m over it now, it’s alright.”

“All the same, you know he doesn’t join us because he loves fighting for a cause. He wants to stick around because… oh, nevermind.”

Enjolras cocked his head in Combeferre’s direction. “What?”

“It’s nothing. It’s not for me to say. I see you’re still alive and well, so why does it matter. He did his job yesterday.”

Enjolras squeezed his hand, confused but deciding not to press the issue. “I know you’re protective of me but it was fine. No disasters.”

“Are you sure?” he said, turning Enjolras’s hand over and running his finger along the gauze wrapped around his palm.

“I broke a vase when I was alone. It was nothing,” he said dismissively, neglecting to inform him of the emotional meltdown. 

“Really? Should you be left alone?”

“Yes,” Enjolras huffed in exasperation. “It was just a short while. Grantaire came back and spent the night with me.”

“Oh, I see,” Combeferre said tightly, though he dropped the subject. 

He escorted Enjolras into the back room of the Café Musain later that evening, and to Enjolras’s dismay his arrival was met with shouts of pity and anger. He heard them all approach, surrounding him. “Enjolras, what have they done to you?” Joly gasped, hugging him while Enjolras vainly attempted to shake him off. 

“Didn’t I tell you?” Enjolras said through gritted teeth in Combeferre's direction. “Please, sit me in the corner.” Combeferre obliged, escorting him to a chair farther away. When the others attempted to follow, Combeferre headed them off.

“I’ll be leading the meeting today,” he called, ushering them back to the center of the room.

But though Combeferre and Courfeyrac tried to steer the meeting toward other topics, it didn’t help. The boys couldn't stop talking about the other night, their anger still palpable and raw, every one of them aggressive and interrupting each other. Several times the suggestion of filing a lawsuit came up. 

Enjolras felt his head pound, unhappy that there was no other topic at hand. He couldn’t blame them; if it had happened to any of the others he would be up there, voice ringing out at the injustice of it all. But he was the victim, and he didn’t enjoy being reminded of it, the words volleying back and forth, over and over, making his mind spin. He felt the panic beginning to rise up again, the utter helplessness forced upon him, and his throat tightened up as if he were suffocating once more. His hands lay in front of him on the table, and he slowly turned the bandaged one over, experimentally, waiting, his fingers shaking. 

It wasn’t long before he felt a hand in his, warm and reassuring, the owner sitting down beside him. “Grantaire?” he asked softly.

“Yes, it’s me,” he replied, squeezing his hand gently.

“I hate this…” Enjolras whispered.

“I know. I’ve been watching you.” 

Enjolras heard him put something to his lips and take a swig. “What have you got there?”

He swallowed. “Bottle of wine. Can’t be bothered with a glass.”

Enjolras hesitated before he asked. “…Can I have some?” It was uncharacteristic of him, but supposedly that was one way he could leave it all behind, even if it was only temporary.

“Happy to share. You need it more than I do.” Grantaire passed him the bottle. Enjolras took a sip, though he found it bitter, unpleasant, his mouth screwing up as he tried to swallow it down. “Nobody drinks for the taste,” Grantaire added. “It gets better if you keep going.” 

Enjolras nodded and continued, lifting the bottle and taking another drink, switching off with Grantaire. He started to feel a slight warmth inside him, and with the encouragement of Grantaire he drank more, forgetting about the angry voices all around him as he focused on getting the wine down his throat. After a bit, he found himself feeling better, tuning out the other boys in favor of Grantaire's jokes, and by the time the meeting was over, they were both a giggling mess in the corner. 

“What is going on over here?” Combeferre said, confused as he approached. “Are…are you drunk, Enjolras? Aren’t you on medication? You’re not supposed to-”

“Grantaire’s taking me home,” Enjolras said plainly. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“No, Grantaire’s drunk too,” Combeferre reminded him. Enjolras felt the bottle being pulled from his hands. “I was going to take you home, remember?”

“No,” Enjolras protested. “Grantaire is going to read to me from his book.” 

“Later,” insisted Combeferre, helping him stand up. 

“I want to take him,” Grantaire said from behind Enjolras.

“I doubt you can be trusted to find the place.”

“Ferre, we’re _fine,”_ Enjolras insisted.

“Okay,” Combeferre sighed. “How about I escort both of you back to the apartment?”

Enjolras didn’t object this time, and he found himself stumbling drunkenly along down the sidewalk, held up between Combeferre and Grantaire, somewhat uneven due to the addition of Grantaire’s inebriation.

“You’re gonna develop, like, super senses,” Grantaire said loudly near Enjolras’s ear. “You’re gonna… _taste_ everything, and hear the entire _spectrum_ of sound. You’ll be an amazing musician.”

“No, no,” Enjolras shook his head dizzily. “I can’t play a… uh...”

“An instrument,” Combeferre grumbled, filling in for him. 

“Shame, I _love_ music. Hey, hey, Combeferre,” Grantaire called over Enjolras’s head. “Do you like opera?”

“Probably not whatever you’re about to sing,” Combeferre replied dryly. 

Grantaire erupted into laughter before transitioning to a drunken aria of sorts, Enjolras sniggering appreciatively as he heavily leaned on Combeferre for support. 

“You really had to have him with us?” Combeferre said in a low voice.

“Shhhh, don’t be mean, Ferre, he’s a good pup,” Enjolras whispered in Combeferre’s ear.

“What?”

“He’s my seeing-eye dog, you know…”

"Right..." With an effort, Combeferre managed to get the both of them back to Enjolras’s apartment. “Are you going to be alright?” he asked, sounding doubtful as he set the key down on the table.

“Grantaire will help me.”

“Ah yes. The drunk leading the blind. And drunk.” He sighed. “I don’t think he should be staying with you.”

“You’re talking about me like I’m not here again,” Grantaire chimed in.

Combeferre took Enjolras firmly by the wrist and pulled him back out of the apartment, closing the door so they could talk privately in the hallway. “I don’t trust him with you,” he said, his voice stern. “You're blind and I don’t want you taken advantage of.”

“He’s not going to steal anything from me,” Enjolras said, pulling his hand away. 

“That’s not what I meant. He’s drunk and…I don’t think you understand-”

“I told you I’m _fine_ ,” Enjolras snapped. “Don’t treat me like a child.”

“I’m not, I’m just saying-”

“Go home, Combeferre,” he said commandingly, before his voice softened again. “It’s okay. I can still take care of myself.”

Combeferre was silent a moment before hugging him tightly. “Please call me. Tomorrow morning at the latest.”

“I will.”

Combeferre opened the door for him, letting him back inside, then shut it without coming in.

“Grantaire?” Enjolras called, turning the lock and taking off his shoes. There was no answer. “Grantaire, where’d you go?”

He stepped further inside the apartment, wondering if Grantaire had gone into the bathroom, but then he heard soft footsteps on the carpet. “Grantaire, I hear you.” The sound ceased, but Enjolras wandered over to where he had heard it. He felt all around, his hands hitting the couch. “Grantaire, c’mon now, I’m kinda dizzy…” 

“Over here,” Grantaire whispered from across the room.

“Hey,” Enjolras spun around, trying to follow the sound. “Your faith in my super senses is misplaced, I can’t find you.” 

“Getting warmer...” Grantaire called softly, his voice retreating.

“Stay still,” Enjolras grumbled, his fingers running into the wall. He felt around, realizing he was at the doorway of the bedroom, and slipped inside, his hands held out to find the bed. He climbed onto it, thinking that’s where he had heard Grantaire, but it was empty. “Where are you?” He was met with silence and he waited, breathing softly, listening for him.

“Boo,” Grantaire whispered in his ear. Enjolras jumped, startled as Grantaire tackled him down onto the bed.

“H-how dare you play tricks on me!” Enjolras said indignantly, unable to help the involuntary laughter as Grantaire tickled him. Enjolras tried to escape, squirming around on the mattress. “You’re not, huh, hnnnnot allowed to do that to a b-blind person.”

“Sorry,” Grantaire replied, pinching his sides playfully. “No special treatment for you.”

“C-curse you,” he panted out, trying to calm down. His head was spinning. “Stop, stop…stop. Read to me or something. You said you would.”

“Okay,” Grantaire agreed. "But I don't think it's going to go well, reading is hard when you're drunk," he explained, his weight lifting off of Enjolras.

"It's even more difficult when you're blind," Enjolras grumbled, scooting up to the pillows and laying back. His stomach feld odd, like it was spinning just as much as his head. Grantaire was flipping through the pages to find where they had left off when suddenly Enjolras sat up. “Grantaire!” 

“What!?”

“I’m g-gonna be sick.”

Grantaire jumped up and half carried him to the bathroom in time, throwing the toilet seat open and setting him on the floor in front of it. He rubbed Enjolras’s back as the bitter liquid came back up. “You’re okay,” Grantaire said softly. “It’s alright.” When it was done, Grantaire handed him his toothbrush. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have let you drink so much.”

“I’m an adult,” Enjolras said back around the toothbrush. “I made that choice, not you.” He felt himself sobering up already, a deeper headache coming on. He rinsed out his mouth at the sink. “I need a shower. Would you help again?” 

“Yes,” Grantaire answered back. He unwound the bandage carefully. “How is it now?”

Enjolras blinked slowly as the darkness lifted. He reached out and took Grantaire’s face in his hands. “I-I’m not sure if I’m imagining it but I think… there’s some reddish colors coming through? It doesn’t seem so grey right now, I guess.”

He felt Grantaire’s mouth twitch into a smile beneath his fingers. “That’s good.”

“It’s better,” Enjolras admitted, though he had his doubts. Maybe it was simply because he was drunk and confused. 

Enjolras allowed Grantaire to undress him, leaning on him as he slowly pulled Enjolras’s shirt up over his head and clumsily unfastened his belt to rid him of his pants. When they had both shed their clothes, Grantaire guided him into the shower, but as Enjolras stood under the steaming water he wavered on his feet. Grantaire put his hands on Enjolras’s waist to steady him, yet he still felt limp. 

“Here, just sit down,” Grantaire suggested, pushing him down gently until he was sitting on the floor of the shower under the stream. “There.” Grantaire sat beside him. “How are you feeling?”

“Less dizzy like this,” Enjolras said, closing his eyes and resting his forehead on his knees, hugging his legs. He felt Grantaire’s fingers tangle into his hair, realizing after a moment he was washing his hair for him. “Thanks,” he mumbled.

“It’s okay, I’ve always wanted to do this.”

Enjolras laughed softly. “You’ve always wanted to wash my hair? How strange.”

“Yea. You’ve got the most gorgeous hair.”

“You’re drunk,” Enjolras said, embarrassed. “But...thanks. I can’t say I’ve had the urge to wash anyone’s hair. Well, maybe yours once, but that was because you looked dirty and it was distracting me.”

Grantaire snorted out a laugh. “Sorry.”

Enjolras turned his head a little so Grantaire had easier access, groaning pleasantly as he massaged his scalp. “You do have nice hair though, Grantaire. It’s soft, now that I’ve been able to touch it.”

“You can touch it as much as you like.”

Enjolras laughed, then sighed, still feeling vaguely dizzy, his head pounding. “Look, I’m sorry for getting sick. You can read to me tomorrow if you still want to.”

“Okay. Don’t worry about it.”

He was vaguely aware of Grantaire helping him back out of the shower, drying him, dressing him in pajamas and putting him to bed. He was already half asleep when he felt Grantaire lay down beside him, the fabric of Grantaire’s soft flannel pants brushing up against his feet as he curled up behind him and slipped an arm around his waist. But in the morning, Enjolras woke up alone in the bed. He stretched and sat up, his head pounding. “Grantaire?” he groaned, a little worried.

The dark blur of Grantaire appeared in front of him after a moment, presumably standing in the doorway. “Hey there, I’m making you breakfast. Let’s get your bandage on.” He came in and helped wrap up his eyes. “Is your head hurting?” 

“Yes.”

Grantaire brought him some meds before returning to cook breakfast, and Enjolras felt around for his phone until he found it down on the bedroom floor. “Call Combeferre.”

Combeferre answered, sounding like he’d been awake for a while. “You survive the night?”

“Yes.”

“Everything alright?”

“I threw up.”

“Oh god. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. It wasn’t near as intense as Grantaire’s town hall incident.”

Combeferre laughed, but suddenly his tone was serious. “Did Grantaire do anything?”

“Grantaire looked after me, thankfully.” 

“Oh. Well… good then. Are you going to attend class today?”

“Oh damn, I forgot. Maybe. Listen, can you come over later to do homework with me?”

“Yes, certainly.”

Enjolras paused. “Will you forgive me?”

“For what?”

“For my behavior last night.”

“Nothing to forgive. I’ll see you later, okay? Call me when you’re ready.”

After hanging up with Combeferre, Enjolras wandered into the kitchen. He stood there sniffing for a few seconds. “Pancakes,” he remarked. “And bacon?”

“Sausage, actually. I ran to the corner store while you were asleep.”

“You don’t seem to be that affected.”

“For me that was nothing,” Grantaire laughed softly. “Just a bit of wine. You’re not used to it. Or it could have been mixing it with the medication you’re already on…”

“Yeah. Not doing that again,” Enjolras sighed. “You didn’t have to cook for me, you know. I can do things on my own.”

“Whether or not you’re injured, I would cook for you every morning if I could. Probably whether you liked it or not. I am a cooking fiend.”

Enjolras felt for a chair at the kitchen table and sat down. “I guess I can’t say no to pancakes. It smells amazing in here.”

“Excellent.” Grantaire set the plate in front of him. “I put the syrup in a little bowl right here,” he said, guiding his hand to show him. “So you can just eat with your hands.”

Enjolras felt himself turning red. “I thought you said no special treatment?”

“I’m eating with my hands too. No silverware to wash.”

Enjolras nodded, secretly glad that he had made it easier for him. He gingerly put his hands down and felt the warm stack of pancakes under his palm, tearing off a piece and dipping it into the syrup to eat. “Mm. Thank you, Grantaire,” he said in appreciation after swallowing the first bite.

“Glad you like.”

“I have a favor to ask. Another. If you don’t mind,” he asked, tasting a sausage link.

“More showers?" Grantaire asked teasingly.

“No. Would you accompany me to my class today, and help me take notes? That is, if you don’t have anything-”

“Done and done,” Grantaire said. “Your seeing-eye dog will be by your side.”

After helping him get dressed and ready, Grantaire escorted him across town to campus. Enjolras was a little nervous, arriving for the first time at school in his bandage, and he thought he heard a few significant whispers as they walked down the echoing hallway and entered the lecture hall together. He found the railing and mounted the stairs to go sit in the back, not wanting the other students to stare, wondering if they already were. He felt for an empty desk and slid into it, leaning over to whisper to Grantaire as he took a seat beside him. “This bandage is humiliating in public.”

"Trust me, you look great today.” 

“I doubt that.”

“We’re early, barely anyone noticed,” Grantaire assured him, patting him on the knee. 

It was about halfway through the lecture that Enjolras felt a gentle touch on his arm, Grantaire’s fingers sliding down his wrist and taking his hand, holding it lightly. Enjolras allowed the touch, unbothered, but a minute later his brow furrowed with realization. He reached over in front of Grantaire, searching and finding his other hand sitting idly on the desk. Enjolras sucked in his breath, dropping Grantaire’s hand. “You’re supposed to be taking _notes!”_ he hissed.

“Hey, hey it’s okay,” Grantaire whispered back. “I’m recording the whole thing on my phone.” He took Enjolras’s hand and guided it over to the phone to assure him. “So you can listen to it again at home.”

Enjolras sighed in relief, sitting back in his chair. He supposed that was the best option after all, not knowing how well Grantaire would summarize the lecture if it were up to him to be writing things down. “Sorry,” he said softly.

“It’s okay. I don’t trust myself to do things either.”

Enjolras bit his lip to keep down a smile, then tried to focus his attention back on the lecture. Grantaire’s hand went to his again, and Enjolras naturally opened his hand to him, accepting the touch. Grantaire’s fingers traced his palm, then his wrist, making little circles, before moving up his forearm, the tips of his fingernails scraping lightly against the skin. It was pleasant but…it stirred something inside Enjolras that felt strange. He shuddered a little, twitching, and as Grantaire continued to do it, he felt the humiliating sensation that he was about to get aroused. 

“Stop it, Grantaire, that tickles. I’m trying to focus,” he whispered, shifting in his seat and shoving Grantaire’s hand away. 

“Sorry,” Grantaire replied quietly, sounding embarrassed.

Enjolras turned his head towards him, wishing he could meet his eyes. Instead, he simply frowned thoughtfully, wondering if Grantaire was looking, before turning back to the lecture.

Afterward, they headed back to the apartment, and Grantaire uploaded the lecture file to Enjolras’s computer for later use. “I’m sorry,” Enjolras said, putting his hand on Grantaire’s shoulder, standing behind him as he sat at the computer. “I wasn’t angry with you, you were just…a bit distracting, that’s all.”

“Don’t worry about it, I shouldn’t have been doing that,” Grantaire muttered. “There, it’s on the desktop. Combeferre can play it for you, if you need to listen again to do your homework.”

“Thanks.”

“Alright. I’m heading out.” He stood up, retrieving his backpack, and then hesitated by Enjolras’s side. “Do… do you want me to bring you dinner later?” he asked tentatively. 

“Uh, s-sure. If you’re offering and don’t mind, that would be nice.”

“What would you like?”

Enjolras shrugged. “Surprise me.”

“That’s not so hard,” Grantaire whispered conspiratorially, his fingers dancing up Enjolras’s spine. Enjolras shivered, his head cocked curiously in his direction as Grantaire left and shut the door behind him.

Then, like the changing of the guard, Combeferre came over shortly after to help with homework. 

“Whoa,” he said as Enjolras opened the door. “That’s quite a statement.”

“Hm?”

“Well I mean, I agree with the sentiment at the moment but…” He trailed off as Enjolras twisted his mouth in confusion. “Grantaire dressed you today,” he said flatly. It wasn’t a question.

Enjolras put his hands to his shirt. “What am I wearing?”

“It’s probably Grantaire’s shirt, first of all,” Combeferre said carefully.

“Grantaire’s?” Enjolras lifted the neckline and sniffed at it, though he had been wearing it all day and he only smelled himself, and laundry soap. “What’s wrong with it?” Enjolras asked cautiously.

Combeferre made an indecisive noise before speaking. “Wrong is relative considering the circumstances but… it does say ‘fuck the police’ on it…” 

Enjolras brought his hand to his mouth in shock, then let out a nervous laugh. “I went to school like this,” he said in disbelief, thinking back to this morning when Grantaire must have laid out the shirt for him, something secret he had brought in his backpack.

“Are you mad?” Combeferre prompted.

“I...I don’t know,” Enjolras said, shaking his head. Despite his shock, he had apparently survived class without issue. “Well...at least we sat in the back,” he grumbled, making a note to speak to Grantaire later as he took Combeferre by the arm and pulled him into the apartment. “Let’s just get the homework done.”

They sat on the couch together again, Combeferre writing down everything that Enjolras dictated for the questions. When they came to a part of the lesson that Enjolras couldn’t remember, Combeferre opened up the recording so they could listen. “I think it was towards the end. Maybe the middle,” Enjolras said, unsure. 

Combeferre played the audio, scrubbing around and waiting for Enjolras to identify what he needed. “Wait wait wait..” Combeferre suddenly said. “What was that?” He went back and replayed a section.

_“Stop it Grantaire, that tickles. I need to focus.”_

Enjolras didn’t say anything, and Combeferre played it again.

_“Stop it, Grantaire, that tickles.”_

_“Stop it, Grantaire.”_

“That’s enough,” Enjolras said dryly.

“What was that about?”

“Nothing.”

“What was he doing?”

“Touching my arm.”

“Like how?”

“I don’t know. Just touching.”

“Did it upset you?”

“No, I just…well…it was a little weird.”

“How so?”

Enjolras sighed. “Should I demonstrate?”

“Sure.”

Enjolras sat closer to Combeferre, leaning towards him, finding his hand. He turned it over, palm up, and gently repeated Grantaire’s actions, swirling his fingertips in slow playful circles in Combeferre’s hand, then up his wrist, and up his forearm, his fingernails teasing the skin with light scrapes as he stroked him. Combeferre was silent until he shakily exhaled, a slight whimper coming out of his throat.

“Like that,” Enjolras said, taking his hand away.

“I see," Combeferre said, clearing his throat. 

“Did you feel like you might-”

“Yes.”

Enjolras sat back, a frown twisting on his face. “I mean it wasn’t bad or anything and I don’t think he meant to do it but-”

“You do realize, Enjolras, that the boy is in love with you?”

Enjolras turned his head in Combeferre’s direction. “What?”

“Grantaire is in love with you.”

Enjolras’s spine straightened, and he shook his head a little. “N-no, I really don’t think…I mean...” 

Combeferre sighed. “I know you don’t look for that which is why you don’t see it. To me it’s obvious.”

Enjolras swallowed. “Surely not, we’ve only just started spending time together.” 

“Nah, he’s been watching you for a while. It’s the only reason why he comes to meetings, as I was trying to tell you yesterday. I feel bad for just saying it like that, but there it is.”

“But…but…” Enjolras didn’t know what to say. “We _showered_ together,” he remembered blankly.

“You what? _Showered?”_

“Twice.”

“Did he touch you?”

“Not more than helping me. I mean, he washed my hair, I guess. But that’s because I was tired.”

Combeferre made a stifled sound in his throat.

“What?”

“Oh, Enj, sometimes you’re so naïve,” he laughed in exasperation. 

“Look, he didn’t do anything. He didn’t kiss me, he didn’t touch me inappropriately. I’m still not convinced.” Enjolras crossed his arms.

“Enjolras…”

“You’re overanalyzing it.”

“I’m telling you, your seeing-eye dog desperately wants to be your seeing-eye boyfriend.”

“Stop. Let’s just…can we please get back to homework?”

Combeferre sighed and agreed, though Enjolras had trouble focusing on work for the rest of the afternoon, fidgeting anxiously in his seat. When Combeferre left, Enjolras sat alone, waiting for Grantaire to return as a small sense of dread welled up inside him. _Love?_


	3. Denial

A few hours later, Grantaire knocked on the door and Enjolras felt his way there to let him in. “Hey!” Grantaire said happily. “Dinner has arrived.”

“H-hi,” Enjolras said tentatively, closing the door behind him. “We need to talk.”

“Oh. _Oh._ Is it because… I’m guessing Combeferre told you about...” Grantaire trailed off, sounding guilty.

Enjolras swallowed heavily, his throat tight. “Um. Y-yes.” 

“Look, I just… It was dumb of me. I thought it would help raise student awareness about what happened to you or something, you know, with you in that, and your bandage, and all.”

“Awareness?” Enjolras straightened. He had forgotten about the t-shirt. “Grantaire, you can’t do something like that without telling me. Don’t take advantage of the fact that I can’t see,” he reprimanded him. 

“I’m sorry, you're right. It’s not funny, I know.”

“If you had just asked...” 

“You wouldn’t have agreed, ” Grantaire mumbled.

“No, it’s too crass for my style. I'd like to think I’m a bit more professional than that,” Enjolras sighed. “Just, please, don’t make any decisions for me and don't trick me. That’s all I ask.”

“Of course,” Grantaire said, his voice wracked with guilt.

“Right.” Enjolras fidgeted with his fingers, now derailed from what he had originally meant to ask. “...I smell curry,” he added, wanting to move on.

“That’s right. Let’s eat,” Grantaire’s voice drifted off toward the kitchen.

As they ate dinner, Combeferre’s words kept returning to him, insistent as a pinprick in the back of his mind. _The boy is in love with you._ But Grantaire, though friendly, was keeping to himself, and Enjolras couldn’t see that much of a difference between the way Grantaire took care of him and the way Combeferre did. _You’ve been close to Combeferre for years. Not with Grantaire. You've only been spending time with Grantaire a few days, and yet he’s..._

 _Sociable,_ he argued to himself. _Grantaire is sociable, that’s all. Open hearted and-_

“Do you like it?” Grantaire asked.

“Oh. Yes, thank you. Where’d you order from?”

“I made it.”

Enjolras raised his brows beneath his bandage, impressed. “That’s right. Your love of cooking shows, you’re very good at it.” 

“Thank you. I’ll make you anything you want.” 

When they had finished and Grantaire had taken the plates away, he took Enjolras’s hand, pulling him from the chair. “Let’s go out dancing,” he said brightly, waltzing him around the kitchen. 

“Dancing!?” Enjolras nearly tripped, grabbing onto him.

“Yea! We can go to a club. No vision required for that, really, it’s already in the dark, and we’ll just-”

“Grantaire,” Enjolras said, letting go and retreating from his grasp, shaking his head. “I’m not ready to put myself in a crowd again, not like that.”

“Oh,” Grantaire said, his spirits dampening. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even make that connection, I just thought… we could get you out of the apartment, that’s all. You’ve been cooped up here the past few nights.”

“That’s what people who are healing tend to do.”

“Yes. You’re right. Nevermind.” 

“Well.” Enjolras paused for a moment, before he came up with another suggestion. “How about you keep reading to me like you wanted?”

“Sure,” Grantaire brightened again, taking him by the shoulders and steering him towards the bedroom.

They settled down on the bed, Enjolras getting comfortable under the covers. “I know it’ll probably look like I’m asleep but I’ll listen, I promise,” he said, laying his head on the pillow. 

“Thankfully we aren’t drunk this time,” Grantaire said teasingly, flipping through the pages. “Not feeling sick, are you?”

“Not at all. Just a bit of déjà vu. But by all means, go ahead.” 

Grantaire continued the story, picking up where they had left off with the young prince Achilles. Patroclus was enamored, entranced, and although all the other boys of the house surrounded Achilles, looking to him as their leader, Patroclus was on the outside of it all, wishing he could be noticed. With Grantaire’s voice speaking the words, it wasn’t hard to imagine Grantaire slipping into the role of Patroclus, the misfit. He had said something two days ago, after all, about identifying with the book.

And then Enjolras understood. He couldn’t help the soft gasp in his throat, cracking as it came out. _Is that how you see me? Am I your Achilles, Grantaire?_

Grantaire stopped reading. “You okay?”

Enjolras sat up on one elbow. “Stop for a moment.”

“Okay. What’s up?”

“I just… I’m just wondering if you’d like to tell me something,” he asked nervously.

“Tell you… what?” Grantaire sounded confused.

“I-I mean if there’s something I need to know.”

“About?”

 _About love._ “A-about anything. About you.”

"About me," he repeated blankly.

"Yes."

Enjolras was met with silence, and his heart started to pound as he felt his cheeks turn red with humiliation. He was glad for the bandage hiding half of his face. This was clumsy, and the wrong way to go about it. He sorely wished Combeferre hadn’t brought any of this to his attention, he was more comfortable being ignorant.

Grantaire huffed softly, and Enjolras frowned, wondering what Grantaire was thinking, if he understood what he was asking. “Grantaire?” 

"What do you want me to say?" he asked quietly.

Then the silence returned, and Enjolras felt stupid, afraid he had broken something between them. Slowly, he lifted his hand, finding Grantaire’s face and gently tracing his fingers over his mouth. _Have I upset you?_ he wondered, trying to discern his expression by touch. Grantaire remained still, whether from patience or stoicism it was hard to tell. But as he took a breath, Enjolras thought he felt Grantaire’s lips tremble against his fingers.

Enjolras dropped his hand, and turned aside, ashamed. “I-I’m sorry, nevermind. It’s nothing.” 

Grantaire was quiet, and Enjolras was too embarrassed to tell him to go back to reading, fearing he had ruined the night. “I-I’m tired anyway,” he added. “I think perhaps I should go to bed.”

“It’s early,” Grantaire replied, his tone unreadable.

“I know but it’s been a long day. Class, homework, all of that.”

“Okay. Do you want me to stay?”

“No, I’ll be alright. Courfeyrac is taking me to class tomorrow morning,” he lied. “He’s coming around early so don’t worry about me. I’m sure you want to go home, you’ve spent the past two nights over here babysitting me.”

“It’s no trouble.”

“I know. Thank you. Truly. But I’ll be okay. I’m just going to bed. I won’t break anything this time. I’ll...I’ll call you if I do.” 

“Promise?” Grantaire asked softly.

“I promise,” Enjolras replied, his lips twitching up into a sad smile.

Grantaire got up off the bed. “Don’t forget to take your medication. It’s on the bathroom counter. Two tablets.” 

“Thank you.”

“Lock up behind me.” 

“I will.” 

“Goodnight, Enj.” 

“Goodnight.”

When he had locked the door behind him, Enjolras went to find his phone, calling Courfeyrac to make the arrangements he had fictionalized into reality. Thankfully, Courfeyrac was free and available to escort him to school. After the call, Enjolras got ready for bed, taking his medication as instructed. He took off his bandage in front of the bathroom sink, unwinding it slowly and blinking blearily in the soft light. He tilted his head side to side, wondering if the splotch of color in front of his eyes was his reflection in the mirror.

With a soft exhale, he gave up straining his eyes and felt around for the lightswitch, leaving him in darkness again as he made his way back into bed, crawling under the blankets. As he curled up, laying his head on the pillow, he realized that he was still wearing Grantaire’s shirt. A deep pang of guilt rang in his chest, wishing he could talk to Grantaire again, to undo the awkwardness he had wedged between them.

He reached out, finding his phone on the nightstand. “Text... Combeferre,” he instructed. “You were right. I don’t know what to do.”

Courfeyrac came in the morning and took him to class, and afterward they went for lunch on the way back to the apartment, eating sandwiches together in the booth of a deli. “Thanks for coming around to help on such late notice,” Enjolras said gratefully. “I didn’t realize I needed someone until last night.” 

“No big deal, happy to help. Grantaire got tired of missing class?” 

"Huh?"

"Oh, Eponine said Grantaire skipped class yesterday. And Monday too, when he took you to the doctor. She was just a little concerned since they have a test coming up, but I mean it was for you, so I can’t really blame him."

Enjolras froze. Grantaire had said he wasn't busy...or rather, it was no problem. But there he was, putting his life on hold to take care of him. Enjolras only realized his mouth had fallen open when he felt a fry being pushed into his mouth. He swallowed it, annoyed. “Courfeyrac.”

“Sorry, I’m just messing with you,” Courfeyrac laughed.

“Stop it. Don’t... do things without asking me." he reprimanded, shaking his head. 

“Sorry," Courfeyrac repeated again, this time guiltily.

“No, it’s me,” Enjolras relented. “I’m blind and not in the mood.”

“Yes,” Courfeyrac agreed. “So how’ve you been getting on the past three days? What’s it like?”

“What’s it like? For starters, I have absolutely no idea where we are right now. We’re at a sandwich shop. I don’t know which one, because all you said was 'let's eat here.' If I walked out the door right now, I wouldn’t know which way was home and which way was school. And I’d have to find the door first.” 

“You could probably GPS your way home with your phone.”

“Or you could walk me home like I’ve asked you to.” 

Courfeyrac laughed at that, and hearing his laughter made Enjolras smile too. “I’ve been getting by with the help of friends. Or lack thereof. Grantaire put a dumb shirt on me yesterday without me knowing.” 

“Ah. Now I see why you’re mad about me playing around.”

“Yes,” Enjolras said, exasperated. “Me being blind is not carte blanche.”

“Got it.” 

Enjolras nodded, but thinking about Grantaire reminded him of everything that happened last night, and he sobered, slouching in his seat.

“You alright?”

“Just thinking about… something weird with Grantaire yesterday. It doesn’t matter,” he added, shaking his head. 

“Did Ferre tell you that he-”

“Yes,” Enjolras cut him off. “Were you discussing this without me?”

“I mean, everyone _knows_. It’s not like it’s a secret.”

“‘Everyone,’” Enjolras repeated. “Except me. I didn’t know.”

“I mean, he’s never actually _said_ anything about it so it’s not like we could say for sure, but-”

“But you’ll gossip about it when I’m not around.”

“Definitely.” 

Enjolras sighed in exasperation, putting down his sandwich. “So it might not be true. I might have confronted Grantaire on hearsay?” he asked, a sinking feeling settling over him.

Courfeyrac snorted. “You confronted him?”

“Well, nothing happened,” he said vaguely. “I didn’t say anything, he didn’t say anything. It doesn’t matter.”

“Words aren’t everything,” Courfeyrac said. “There are other signals. Things you never noticed. He’s in love with you, Enjolras. And has been for a while.”

“Not that I could tell.”

“Well, I guess you could just say you’ve been-”

“Don’t.”

“… _blind_ to it.” 

Enjolras did his best to glare through his bandage. “I’m not going to respond to that. I’m done. Take me home,” he grumbled.

"Hey, can't you see I'm still eating?" Courfeyrac asked gleefully.

"Oh, shut up."

Courfeyrac dropped him off at his apartment, Enjolras assuring him that he would be fine on his own, deciding to take the afternoon off from obliging anyone to homework duty. But once he was alone, he was left wondering what to do with himself. It was lonely in his private darkness, and he found himself wishing he had a real seeing-eye dog by his side, someone who wouldn’t be inconvenienced to just sit with him in the infinite minutes and help him get around. He decided on listening to the tv for a few hours, nearly falling asleep from boredom, when he felt his phone vibrating. 

He dug it out of his pocket and swiped at it, hoping he had answered properly, uncertain of who it would be. “Hello?”

“Hey.”

“Grantaire,” he replied softly, letting out a breath of relief upon hearing his voice and hoping the awkwardness was over. “Are you checking on me?”

“Mhm. Did Courfeyrac take you to class today?”

“Yes. And he told me you’ve been skipping yours.”

“I went today.”

“Good. I don’t want you missing anymore on my behalf.”

“I wanted to make sure you were taken care of.”

“I’m grateful, I am. Just, from now on, no more of that. Right?”

“Alright. Are you doing okay?”

“...I’m incredibly bored,” Enjolras admitted.

“I could come over,” Grantaire suggested, sounding tentatively eager.

“Hm.” Enjolras lay back on the couch, considering. If he hadn’t meddled last night, things probably would have been fine between them. It was worth another try. “Would you entertain me?”

“I’ll think of something.”

“Alright then.”

“I’ll be there soon. Try not to die of boredom.”

“That’ll be a challenge,” Enjolras said, smiling. “See you soon...er...I mean...not exactly...” 

“Sure, Enj.” He heard Grantaire laughing as he hung up.

Grantaire arrived later than he expected, and when Enjolras heard the knock at his door, he opened it with a bit of impatience. “You took your time.” 

“I stopped at the store,” he explained cheerily. “Brought you a treat.” Enjolras suddenly felt something ice cold against his cheek and he jumped back. “Ice cream,” Grantaire laughed, heading off for the kitchen. 

“Always trying to feed me” Enjolras tutted, closing the door behind him

“Hey,” Grantaire said from across the apartment as he stashed the ice cream in the fridge. “I’m keeping you stimulated. I won’t let your senses suffer just because you’re down to four. I’m just enriching your sensual experience-”

“Sensory,” Enjolras corrected as he felt his way to the kitchen, leaning against the wall. “Sensory, not sensual.”

“Right,” Grantaire said, unbothered. “C’mere,” he said, taking his hand and leading him back to the living room. “I’ve got a surprise for you.” 

“What about the ice cream?” Enjolras complained.

“Later. Sit down.” He pushed him back onto the couch, and Enjolras heard him wander away a few steps, unzipping something.

“What did you bring?” Enjolras asked curiously.

“Okay, well it’s not that exciting, but we can give it a try. Here we go.” He slowly lowered something large into Enjolras’s lap. “Take hold.” 

Enjolras realized his hands were closing around an acoustic guitar. “I can’t play,” he protested with a laugh. “I told you that.”

“I know, it’s okay,” he said, sitting down beside him. “I’m going to teach you a few things.”

“Alright,” Enjolras said, warming up to the idea. He ran his fingers over the strings, trying to picture where he should place his hands, and gave it an experimental strum, the sound resonating all around him. 

“Here,” Grantaire said, arranging his hands. “Now keep your fingers like this,” he said, pressing each finger tip to a different string.

“Ow. It kinda hurts.”

“You get used to it. Your fingers toughen up.” He brushed his fingers over the back of Enjolras’s hand. “Mine are a bit rougher than yours, couldn’t you tell?”

“Oh?” Enjolras asked airily.

“Yes. I noticed that, since we’ve been holding hands a lot lately.”

Enjolras felt himself blush. “Right.” 

“Try now.”

Enjolras strummed the guitar, a different sound.

“That’s G chord, and if you strum it like this you can get a sort of rhythm going…”

Grantaire showed him another chord, helping him move his hand from string to string. Enjolras began to memorize by touch how to go from one chord to the other, though he played plenty of wrong notes in between. But Grantaire was patient, and by the end of the lesson Enjolras had learned three chords and a simple repetitive song to use them in. “Wonderful,” Grantaire beamed, after Enjolras finished a few rounds of the chords. “Not too hard, right?”

“My hand still hurts,” he admitted, flexing his fingers, but he smiled at Grantaire. He had never played an instrument before, and despite the rudimentary nature of the lesson, he was rather proud of himself for catching on quickly.

“I would have brought you my keyboard if it was portable, but alas.”

“I didn’t know you cared about music so much.”

“Well, if you find you care about it as much as I do, I’ll teach you more later. But if you want to keep your fingers soft I understand,” he said teasingly, taking Enjolras’s hand and attempting to rub some feeling back into his fingertips.

“We’ll see,” Enjolras said, pulling his hand back. “If my vision doesn’t come back I’m going to have to find _some_ way to fight the boredom. Have I earned my ice cream yet?”

“Oh yes.” Grantaire took the guitar from him and set it down, returning to the kitchen. “I bought cones too, so that’s fun.”

“Just admit it,” Enjolras called after him. “You’re babying me so I don’t have to use a spoon.”

“Hey, if you don’t want a chocolate dipped cone, you can eat out of one of your regular old bowls,” Grantaire said. “I’ll be enjoying a cone with mine, thank you.”

“Alright, alright. I want one, too,” Enjolras huffed.

“Good lad,” he replied. After a minute of Grantaire shuffling about in the kitchen, he returned and handed Enjolras an ice cream cone, sitting down beside Enjolras with his own.

“What flavor?” 

“Taste and find out.”

Enjolras gave it a tentative lick, feeling the cold cream against his tongue, and nose. Grantaire leaned closer and swiped his thumb across Enjolras’s nose. “Watch out,” he laughed. “It’s a double scoop.”

“Cookies and cream,” Enjolras answered.

“Yes. For people who are not sure if they prefer chocolate or vanilla. Or in my case, for someone who is unsure what Enjolras prefers.” 

“I like vanilla best,” he admitted.

“You would,” Grantaire scoffed.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, nothing. Obviously chocolate is superior but you’re entitled to your opinion, however wrong it may be.”

Enjolras reached out and pushed him playfully, but Grantaire quickly caught his other hand, steadying the ice cream cone. “Careful now,” he warned. “Don’t want to clean up after any more of your messes.”

Enjolras bit his lip and nodded, lowering his hand. “Just don’t provoke me then,” he scolded him. 

“I’ll try not to,” Grantaire whispered. 

“You used to make me so mad,” Enjolras added softly, remembering. “Always making trouble.”

“And now?” 

“I haven’t completely figured you out, but I like you much better, now that I’ve come to know you.”

“I’ll take that.”

Enjolras lapsed into silence, simply enjoying his ice cream cone and wondering if what Combeferre and Courfeyrac told him even mattered, if it was true. Despite their cautioning, he was good company and it was nice to spend time with him. He’d have to find a way to repay him for his kindness. _And for all the food at the least,_ he thought as he ran his tongue along the ice cream. 

“Listen, Grantaire. Thank you, for all that you’ve been doing for me. I never thought I could depend on you, but I trust you now,” he said, reaching out his hand to find his. But his hand found something else, something hard and prominent inside Grantaire’s jeans, and Enjolras realized all too late he had underestimated how close Grantaire was sitting next to him. “Oh my god!” Enjolras gasped, taking his hand back as if stung.

“I’m sorry!” Grantaire yelped, springing away.

“I-I didn’t mean to-”

“I couldn’t help...I... It was the way you were…” he stuttered, barely able to form a sentence. 

“...Are you in love with me?” Enjolras asked bluntly, his voice hollow. He only realized how accusatory the words sounded until after they left his mouth. He shook his head. “I mean… it’s alright, Combeferre told me you-”

“I have to go,” Grantaire said quickly, completely distressed. Enjolras heard him grab his backpack and make for the door.

“Grantaire, wait!” Enjolras said, standing up to follow, but the door had closed already. As he stepped forward he nearly tripped over something, the forgotten cone falling from his hand. “Fuck!” He kicked out, trying to clear his way. With a crack and a dissonant echo, he realized that the obstacle under his feet was Grantaire’s guitar. “Oh no, no no no,” he pleaded, dropping down and feeling it with frantic hands. He found the place where he had fractured and splintered the wood in the side of the instrument, whimpering as his fingers traced the crack, hoping it would still play despite the damage he had done. 

He slowly stood up, placing the guitar safely on the coffee table, knowing that Grantaire had probably made it to the bottom of the stairs by now. There was no point in blindly chasing after him. _Why am I so terrible at this sort of thing? Why did I have to embarrass him like that?_ He shakily knelt down and felt for the fallen ice cream cone, finding and disposing of it before returning with a paper towel to dab at the carpet. _It’s because you don’t notice anything that doesn’t concern your own thoughts. You’re blind and you’ve been blind and everyone knows it but you._ Enjolras sniffed, hot tears stinging his eyes beneath the bandage, wondering if his fate had simply been some karmic joke finally catching up to him.

When the carpet felt clean, he made his way to the bathroom and took off the damp bandage, wiping at his eyes. He looked around him, distractedly wondering if there were more shapes discernible than yesterday, or if the tears were causing splotches in his limited vision. He wanted to shower, it had been two days, although no one was here to make sure he didn’t fall. He disrobed anyway, and after turning on the water he stepped carefully in and sat down on the tile floor, slumping against the wall of the shower and letting the water run over him as he stared blankly outward. 

It was impossible not to think about what had just happened. Before, it was easier to file his friends’ suspicions about Grantaire into a more innocent category. Puppy love, at the most. He hadn’t spent time considering what it all really meant. _Grantaire wants to have sex with me,_ he thought, an obvious conclusion Combeferre had warned about, and yet it had been pushed to the back of his mind and dismissed, despite their showers together and sleeping beside each other in his bed. Sex wasn’t something that often made its way to the forefront of Enjolras’s thoughts. But Grantaire hadn’t taken advantage of him, not even while blind and drunk, and from Grantaire’s reaction, Enjolras wasn’t meant to find out the state he was in tonight.

 _What would it be like, if he had done something about it?_ he wondered, remembering the texture of Grantaire’s rough fingertips against his skin. He had felt the weight of his body over him when Grantaire tackled him to the bed, two nights ago, and thinking about it now made him shiver as he took a breath. _And why was he aroused? I wasn’t even doing anything, just eating ice cream._

 _...with your tongue, Enjolras,_ whispered a voice in the back of his mind. 

_Then…_ He pictured the scene again, thinking about how it might have looked from the outside. _He was watching me, probably thinking about me licking his..._

Enjolras was horrorstruck at the new image that came to mind, and even more shocked to find himself growing aroused at the thought, his heart hammering wildly. _Would he want me to do that? ...or do that to me? How would it feel?_ He pictured Grantaire’s guiding hands sliding down his body, his warm breath on his skin. Enjolras’s hand slipped down nervously, grasping his cock. He had never thought about anyone specific when he touched himself before, let alone someone he _knew,_ and though he was sure it was wrong, he couldn’t stop himself. _Was he thinking about fucking me when we were in the shower together? Was he aroused then, without me even knowing?_ The thought made him harder, and even moreso the idea of Grantaire trying to control himself. _Did you like what you saw, Grantaire?_ he wanted to ask, the sound of his own breath echoing around him as he started to pant. He stroked himself faster, his fingers sliding down his shaft again and again as the hot water streamed over him from above, droplets running down his skin. _What would you do with me, if I let you have your chance?_

He thought of the way he had undressed him the other night, but this time he altered the memory, Grantaire throwing aside his clothes, pushing him up against the wall, his fingers grabbing hold of his hips. _Would you want to be inside me?_ Grantaire turned him around roughly, Enjolras’s hands pressing against the wall to steady himself, and-

Enjolras came, his body shaking as he spent himself on the shower floor. Instead of relief, however, a crushing guilt settled over him now that the physical feeling had ebbed away. He had embarrassed Grantaire, only to take what had happened and use it as fuel for some sort of depraved sexual fantasy. _See, you are a terrible person, aren’t you?_

A pathetic moan escaped his throat as he felt around on the shelf for the soap, finally washing himself and wishing he could cleanse himself of his actions, too. Afterward, he carefully got out of the shower, drying himself off and finding some pajamas in a drawer to put on, making sure his body was covered up again to hide his shame. He was about to get into bed when he stopped to wonder how Grantaire was feeling at this moment, wherever he had gone. _Should I call him?_ He went back into the living room, in search of his phone, and as he felt around the coffee table, his fingers brushed Grantaire’s guitar, his throat going tight. _Will he be mad about that, when I tell him?_ At this point he didn’t know if Grantaire would even want to talk to him.

He found his phone, taking it with him to bed and holding it a long time as he lay there, indecisive. Finally, he pressed the button. “Text Grantaire,” he said weakly.

“I’m so sorry, forgive me. Please don’t be afraid.”


	4. Focus

When Enjolras awoke, he saw a star above him. He stared at it, trying to make sense of it, until he realized what he was seeing was the ceiling fan, vague and out of focus. He turned his head, and saw a distinct green glow by the side of the bed, knowing it was coming from his alarm clock. A sigh of relief escaped his lips, but he didn’t have the heart to fully celebrate his visual improvement. He was far from healed, and there was no guarantee he would return to his original state.

He remembered the doctor had said to check in if there were any changes, but he didn’t know how to contact the doctor on his own, nor did he feel like asking someone else. The memories of last night weighed heavily upon him, and social interaction seemed far from appealing, let alone the thought of obligating anyone to look after him. _I refuse to be a burden._ He rolled over, pulling the blankets back up over himself. His friends had more important things to do with their lives than walk him to class, or ...bring him food, or read books to him. He would manage on his own, he told himself.

With that in mind, he spent the rest of the day in bed. It was better to sleep, where he could see faces and objects in full color and clarity again in his dreams, as surreal as they were, instead of making an attempt to blindly stumble alone to class. He only left the bed once, shambling to the fridge to shovel some leftover ice cream into his mouth, a meal of minimal effort. Afterward, he crawled back into bed, finding himself wondering why no one had checked in on him, his pride slowly giving way to a small twinge of fear. _If I do nothing, how long will it be before someone notices?_ he wondered as he drifted off to sleep again. _How long will they allow me to make it on my own?_

“Hey. Hey...Enj.” a voice called, waking him.

“Mmmrrh,” Enjolras growled into his pillow. 

“Enj. Get up.” 

Someone was shaking his shoulder. He raised his head, turning to see an amorphous figure sitting on the edge of his bed. “Combeferre,” he decided with some relief.

“Yes. How are your eyes?”

“Better,” Enjolras said, rubbing at them as he sat up.

“That’s good.”

“I can see a little bit.”

“Really?”

“Not very well. You’re very….amoebic.”

“Oh good, you noticed. That’s what I was going for,” Combeferre said playfully, though his tone quickly grew serious. “I texted around and realized no one came to see you.”

“How did you-”

“Your door was unlocked.” 

“Ah.” Enjolras had never managed to lock up, after Grantaire’s frantic exit. “I forgot.”

“C’mon,” Combeferre patted Enjolras’s leg. “Let’s get you out of bed. Everyone’s going to the cafe tonight. No business, I promise, just for fun.”

“No,” Enjolras said mopily.

“Yes. Let’s get you out of the apartment. You’re wilting. Like a little flower.”

“And just as useful,” Enjolras grunted, but the mention of a flower reminded him of the one Grantaire had given him, wilted after he had smashed the vase on the floor in his clumsiness. Last night made it clear he hadn’t learned to be careful. He wondered if Grantaire would forgive him for the mess he had made this time.

“Here we go. TIme to get up,” Combeferre said, dragging him from the bed as Enjolras weakly complied. “Let’s get you dressed and bandaged up.” 

They arrived at the cafe a short time later, Enjolras letting go of Combeferre’s arm as he heard someone approach. “You made it!” Courfeyrac said eagerly. “You want a burger? We’re ordering right now.” 

“Yea, I guess.” Truthfully he was starving, not having had any proper food all day. “Listen, can you make another appointment for me at the doctor?”

“Sure thing, buddy. What day do you want it?”

“Monday, I think. That way it’ll be a week since I last went.” 

“Putting a reminder in my phone right now. Here, take a seat,” Courfeyrac said as he pushed Enjolras into a chair.

His other friends at the table, Marius, Cosette, and Feuilly, identified themselves and asked him how he was. Enjolras gave a few mechanical answers, wondering if Grantaire had come. He might have been at another table, but it was hard to hear over the noise of the other patrons and the music playing overhead. Courfeyrac seemed tipsy, loudly telling Marius about his trip with Enjolras around campus yesterday. Enjolras fidgeted, feeling overwhelmed and anxious amidst the cacophony. Surreptitiously, he laid his hand on the table, turning it over and letting it lie there open, hoping it would signal Grantaire to come to him, as it had the other night.

And then, a hand fit into his.

“You alright?”

“...Combeferre,” Enjolras answered, trying not to sound disappointed. “Is Grantaire here?” he asked in a low voice.

“Mmm...I’m not sure… what’s wrong?”

“Something… happened last night,” he answered carefully, pulling back his hand and turning his face away in embarrassment. "I don't want to talk about it"

"Are you okay?" Combeferre pressed in a whisper.

"I’m fine, Ferre. It wasn’t like that, it was just...I didn't know how to talk to him about this whole thing. It ended badly."

“Oh. Shit."

"Yea."

"...I’ll see if he’s around.” Combeferre got up and left his side.

It seemed to Enjolras he was gone a long time, and his food was being set in front of him by the time he came back. "Well?” he asked Combeferre hopefully.

“Don’t worry. He’s not going to bother you anymore.”

“What?” Enjolras straightened, alert.

“I took him aside and talked to him about it.”

“W-what did you say!?” he hissed.

“I told him we were glad he took care of you but I made it clear that his romantic advances were making you uncomf-”

 _"Ferre!”_ Enjolras gasped, incensed. 

“What!?”

“ I didn’t ask you to do that, what have you done? D-don’t _speak_ for me!” 

“But...but I thought-”

“You can’t just decide to do things without asking me! What were you thinking!?” His voice grew louder, and he realized everyone at the table, and perhaps several others, had fallen silent. “Don’t try to fucking help me. Any of you,” he snapped. “You all think I’m helpless. I’m _not_. I don't need anything done for me.”

“Enjolras,” Combeferre said sternly, grabbing his wrist. He pulled him from his seat and suddenly they were out the door of the back patio in the night air. “What’s going on?”

Enjolras whipped off his bandage, feeling trapped and wanting to glare in Combeferre’s direction. “I’m the one that needed to apologize, not Grantaire. _I_ was the problem, _I_ embarrassed him. And _now_ I need to apologize for this, as well.”

“Oh! Oh, Enjolras,” Combeferre said, his voice full of regret. “I’m so sorry. I thought from your text the other night… and knowing how he is-”

“It’s not like that, he isn’t like that. Circumstances change. I don’t even _know_ how I feel.” Enjolras turned with a sigh. “I’m going in to find him.” Hands out, he pawed for the door handle and found it, yanking it open. He stopped and stared around at the fuzzy mess of movement inside the cafe, figures and faces clouded over like a bad dream. “Grantaire?” he called feverishly.

“I-I don’t see him,” Combeferre said, coming in behind him. “Maybe in the bathroom?”

“He probably _left,_ ” Enjolras said angrily. He made his way across the room, tripping over a chair but steadying himself, knocking into someone else, Combeferre following after and calling his name to stop. He burst out the front door, but the street was dark and there was even less to see than inside. He heard Combeferre approach beside him. “Is he out here?” Enjolras demanded.

“No. Not that I can tell.”

Enjolras felt in his pockets, searching for his phone, only to find them empty. The phone had been left at home on the nightstand. He let out a defeated sigh. 

“Your food is getting cold,” Combeferre reminded him weakly.

Enjolras wanted to argue, to tell him it didn’t matter, but his stomach was so empty he allowed Combeferre to lead him inside and sit him back down at the table. “Sorry about that. Enj’s alright,” Combeferre said to the others. “Don’t worry about it.”

Enjolras quickly ate his cheeseburger, then stood up from the table, studying the surrounding tables and trying to discern who was around. “Bahorel?” he asked tentatively.

“Over here, Enj.” 

He turned and saw what seemed to be a broad figure waving from another table. Enjolras made his way over. “Can you tell me where Grantaire lives?”

“Uh, I think he lives at 40th and...Spring. Big white building.” 

“Which apartment?”

“Fifth floor? Not sure the number though. It's near the stairs.”

“Thank you, I’ll figure it out.” Enjolras turned to find Combeferre.

“Oh, but Enj.” Bahorel caught his sleeve and held him back. "He didn’t go home yet, if that's why you're asking. He looked a little down, Montparnasse and Eponine left with him to go to a bar. Want me to text 'em?”

Enjolras felt his heart sink. “It’s okay. I don’t want to bother him, if he’s out with them. Just…” _Tell him I’m sorry. Tell him to wait for me. Tell him to come to me tomorrow._ “Tell them not to drink too much. Tell them to take care of Grantaire. Don’t say it was from me.”

“Alright, sure. I’ll probably join them after this anyway, I’ll make sure he’s okay.”

“Thank you.”

Enjolras returned to his table and found his bandage, and shortly after Combeferre took him home. 

“I’m sorry, again,” Combeferre said tentatively as they stood in the doorway of Enjolras's apartment.

“Don’t...blame yourself. I should have made it clear I didn’t need help,” Enjolras sighed. 

“When you texted me the other night about it, I thought you did. What was it anyway, that made you realize...?”

“Oh. He was reading this book to me.” Enjolras shook his head dismissively. “Maybe he was trying to tell me something, or maybe he didn’t even know he was.”

“What book?”

“I don’t think he ever told me what it was called. But it was about Achilles. And Patroclus.” Enjolras heard Combeferre’s stifle a laugh. “What?”

“In that case, I don’t think he was trying to _tell_ you something as much as metaphorically _shout_ it at you. Reading you a book about classical gay lovers is, hm, less than subtle, I’d venture.”

“Tsk, it's not like he went out and bought it to read to me. He had it in his bag to begin with. In any case I think he sort of… froze up when I confronted him about it, when he was reading to me. And I shouldn’t have done it in the first place, not in the way I did. That, plus last night, and now tonight, it's like three nights in a row of destroying Grantaire's feelings. I need to talk to him. Tomorrow, hopefully.” 

“Yes, I hope so. And tell him I’m sorry, too. I’ll apologize in person next time.”

Enjolras nodded. "That would be good.”

"Do you need help getting ready for bed?”

“No.”

“Do you need me to come be with you tomorrow?”

“I want to hear from Grantaire first. Thank you, though."

"Let me know."

"I will."

“Alright then. Goodnight, Achilles.”

“Goodn-” Enjolras clenched his jaw as he processed the nickname. “You're not off the hook, you know. Don’t make jokes until I’ve fixed things. Goodnight,” he said, closing the door behind Combeferre. 

After Enjolras had gotten ready for bed and slipped under the covers, he found his neglected phone on the nightstand. He noted with a small bit of comfort that he could at least see the screen lighting up in front of him now, even if he couldn’t read anything on it. “Call Grantaire,” he commanded. It was possible Grantaire went home early, or he might spare a minute to answer the phone even if he was still at the bar. After one ring though, the phone went to voicemail. Enjolras bit his lip. _Is his phone off...or did he deliberately ignore the call?_ Too shaken to leave a message, he put the phone down and curled up, hugging his pillow as he lay down to sleep.

Enjolras was hoping he’d wake up to a call, that Grantaire would somehow know he was waiting for him, but he only awoke to silence. _Grantaire was probably out late,_ he reminded himself. _Maybe he’s still asleep._ Enjolras decided to wait, forcing down his sense of unease, and settled on going about his day without the bandage. This time he could find the cereal box by shape recognition, instead of feeling around blindly, though he still couldn’t read the expiration date on the milk. He sniffed at it carefully before pouring it in the bowl, then sat down to eat breakfast with his phone close by just in case.

After, he took another shower seated on the tile floor, although this time he was in no mood to touch himself. He sat there listening carefully for the sound of the phone over the water, having laid it on the bathmat nearby. Finally as he was drying off, it rang. He nearly dove for it. "Hello?"

"Hey Enj!" Courfeyrac greeted him. 

Enjolras felt a pang in his chest, surprised at how potently he felt the disappointment.

"I got you the Monday appointment. I said eleven, I hope that's alright."

"Yes...yes, thank you, Courf. That's perfect."

"You doing alright?"

"I'm fine, just waiting for another call."

"Oh okay, I'll let you go. Just wanted to let you know!"

"Thanks again."

But as the day wore on, it became clear that Enjolras was waiting for nothing, and making it on his own wasn't the liberating experience he had hoped for. He stayed on the couch for most of the afternoon, listening to the tv again mindlessly, watching the colors on the screen move and change. He eyed what he knew to be the guitar on the coffee table, picking it up tentatively and giving it a strum. He couldn't tell if it sounded different, if its cracked body had ruined the playability. One afternoon hadn't sharpened his musical sensibilities. He considered practicing what Grantaire had taught him, but guilt, and fear that the cracks would spread in the wood, stayed his hand.

"What time is it?" he asked his phone impatiently. 

"The time is 3:27 pm," it replied mechanically.

He sighed. "Call Grantaire."

This time it rang several times, but there was no answer.

A wave of dread washed over him, leaving him to wonder if Grantaire really had decided to shut him out. An idea entered his mind for a fleeting second, to call back and leave a voicemail pretending to need help, to test him and see if he would come running like he had when the vase broke. But Enjolras chided himself for the thought, a desperate and terrible idea, and far below his dignity. Not to mention lying would make things worse. However, the need to take drastic action stuck.

He stood, picking up the guitar, and went to find the case, a foreign black shape leaning against the wall. He packed the guitar away as best he could, zipping the case shut and slinging it over his back. In the hallway, he shoved his feet into a pair of shoes and retrieved his wallet and keys 

_What about your bandage?_ he reminded himself.

_...Fuck it._

He yanked a drawer open in the side table by the door, digging around until he found a pair of sunglasses, and slipped them on. His world went dim, but at least the glasses would offer him some protection from exposure. He needed to be able to see, as limited as his vision was, if this was going to work.

Enjolras left the apartment, locking up behind him, and carefully headed down the stairwell one step at a time. As he came out the front of the building, he gasped and recoiled from the sunlight, squinting hard until he dared open his eyes again and let himself get used to the brightness. Even with the sunglasses it was strong, and he blinked determinedly until he could focus on what he was doing. Taking out his phone, he thought for a moment about what to say, then, “Give me walking directions to the intersection of 40th and Spring Street.” 

He stepped forward as the phone guided him to the right, heading for the street corner. "I hope this works, Courf," he muttered, wondering if Courfeyrac had been remotely serious when he had suggested blindly navigating around by GPS. _I'm not that blind now,_ he told himself. Even though it was dull and blurry, he could still distinguish the color of the crosswalk light ahead of him. As he saw a figure next to him step down into the street, he shouldered the guitar and followed. _This isn't so hard. I can do this._

But it would have been easier if Enjolras had ever been to Grantaire’s apartment, as he found out when he crossed several more streets into unknown territory. _Turn left….turn right…keep going for .2 miles…_ Soon he was no longer able to sense where he was in relationship to his apartment. The streets grew busier as he moved further out, and several times he was jostled aside, as passerby knocked into the guitar. _Continue on for half a mile, then turn left at 40th Street._ He tripped, but kept his balance, trying to remain calm. _You’re probably almost there..._

Enjolras had been walking for fifteen minutes when he realized something was wrong. He had never been told when to turn, and surely by now it had been half a mile. He paused, as people walked around him like an obstacle, and brought the phone close to his face. It was hard enough to see phone screens in direct sunlight, without his additional visual impairment. “Continue navigation,” he demanded. He strained to listen for a reply, wondering if perhaps he hadn’t heard the directions over the noise of the street. But even with the phone close to his ear, there was nothing. A sudden realization gripped him. “Call Grantaire,” he tried weakly, holding it back up to listen. There was no dial tone. The phone was dead.

Heart beating fast, he stared down at the sidewalk, fighting the panic down. _When was the last time I charged it?_ Without being able to see the screen he hadn’t been thinking of the battery life of his phone, wondering if he had even remembered to plug it in since he had gone blind. His phone usage had gone down significantly, now that he couldn’t use it for anything but a few calls and texts, and it hadn’t occurred to him the battery had been draining all this time. _How could I have been so stupid?_ Now he was alone, completely unaware of his surroundings and unable to call for help.

He turned his head frantically from side to side, wishing he could will himself to read the street signs, or somehow return to an hour ago and undo the situation he had hurtled himself into. He felt his throat closing up, but he couldn’t let the fear take over. “Excuse me!” he cried on an impulse, reaching out to the nearest figure, but they rushed quickly passed him. He turned to another, striding quickly after them to keep up. “Please, I need to know-” But he stopped as they sped away. 

Shakily, he turned and backtracked to the corner where had had come from. He saw someone standing waiting to cross. “What street is this?” he asked, trying not to sound out of sorts. 

The person paused, probably wondering why Enjolras couldn’t see the sign for himself. “43rd.”

He had walked too far. “And do you know where Spring Street is?” 

“Uhh...two blocks that way, I believe.” Enjolras saw her arm go up, pointing. 

“This way?” he asked, pointing right, hoping for confirmation that he was correct. 

“Yes.”

“Thank you.” It must have been true, the phone had told him to go left, and now that he was turned around it made sense. He let out a breath, his heartbeat calming. He could do this without the phone, he was almost there.

He backtracked the three streets back to 40th, and made the right. _What if Grantaire’s not home?_ he asked himself. _What if he slept at Bahorels? Eponine’s?_

_Keep going,_ he thought, forcing himself to ignore his doubts. _Two more blocks to go._

He started walking faster, as cumbersome as it was with the guitar slung over his back. _One more._

His breath quickened as he crossed and quickly made his way up the block, halting at the corner. _This is it._

_Now what?_

He stopped and scanned his surroundings. Bahorel had told him it was a big white building. But all around he saw red brick structures, nothing that matched. He took a step back, staring down one end of the block, then the other, checking all four sides for one of that description. But as far as he could tell, none of them fit.

“Is this 40th and Spring?” he called out to a nearby pedestrian.

“Yes.”

“Is...is there a white building around here somewhere?”

“Not that I know of, kid.” 

“Th-thanks…” 

Enjolras’s throat tightened up again, realizing belatedly he had a memory of Bahorel hesitating when he had said the street names. He couldn’t be sure Grantaire even lived near here. He had come all this way on his own and now he was stranded. 

_Hail a taxi. Go home._

_No. I have to find him._

He forced himself to walk down Spring Street, not knowing where he was trying to go, hoping that somehow the big white building would appear if he kept moving forward. Only now did he realize that his head was starting to pound, the light getting to him, and his eyes began to water. 

Suddenly, his foot caught in a break in the pavement where the concrete had split, and he went down hard. He flung his hands out to catch himself, and the guitar swung around and dropped beside him. He slowly sat up, shocked, brushing his dirty hands on his jeans. It took him a moment to realize his sensitive eyes were stinging and exposed, and he shut them quickly, feeling around for his sunglasses. He felt the plastic underneath his fingers and grabbed them, shoving them back on, and pulled the guitar close. He didn’t want to get up, feeling lost and alone, and tears of frustration and anger streamed from his burning eyes. 

_I was wrong. I can’t do things on my own, not like this. I should never have-_

“Enjolras?”

He looked up, his heart leaping as he saw a figure coming towards him. A dark-haired figure. 

“Enjolras, what are you doing?”

Enjolras scrambled to get to his feet, letting go of the guitar, and launched himself at Grantaire, falling against him as he heard a pair of grocery bags drop to the sidewalk at their feet. He pressed his face into Grantaire’s shirt, his glasses askew, breathing in that same scent he had committed to memory the night he was rescued from the rally. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, clinging to him. 

He felt Grantaire’s arms reluctantly encircle him, before relenting and squeezing him close. “What happened? Are you out here alone?” he asked, his voice full of sadness.

“I came to find you.” Enjolras was making Grantaire’s shirt wet from his tears, and he leaned back to wipe his eyes and fix his glasses. “I broke your guitar,” he added in a whisper. “On accident.”

“Don’t cry,” Grantaire said. “Where your bandage?”

“I left it at home, I needed to see where I was going. ...And my eyes hurt.”

“I’m sure they do. C’mon.” Grantaire let him go, bending down to sling the guitar on his back and retrieve his groceries. 

“I couldn’t find your apartment. My phone died.”

“It’s just one more block over,” he said softly, taking Enjolras’s hand, carrying both his bags in the other. Enjolras obediently followed along, holding onto him tightly. Bahorel had been wrong, but luckily close enough to bring him to Grantaire at the exact right moment.

When they arrived at Grantaire’s apartment, Enjolras found the couch and sat down, anxiously watching the shape of Grantaire moving about his kitchen putting away the groceries. When he was finished, Grantaire returned to him, turning Enjolras’s hand over and dropping two pills into his palm. “For your headache,” he said, handing him a glass of water.

“Thank you.”

"Give me your phone. I've got a charger."

Enjolras handed it over as he took the pills. 

"You shouldn't have gone out alone. You didn't call someone before you left?"

"I did. I called you."

"Oh." He saw Grantaire pull his phone from his pocket. "You did. I was out, I didn't hear it," he said apologetically.

"I called last night, too. "

"...I know." Grantaire came back to sit down beside him, but kept his distance, leaning back against the side of the couch. 

"What Combeferre said to you last night," Enjolras started weakly. "There was a misunderstanding. I never asked him to say that. I didn't want to tell him what happened and he got the wrong impression. But all I wanted to do was find you and apologize, before he came to you. I'm so sorry, we both are."

"It's fine," Grantaire said dismissively, though it was hard to believe him.

"It's just that I don't know how to talk about these things. I'm not trying to make excuses, I just want you to know it's difficult for me to find the right words, and I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Don't worry, I have plenty of experience with rejection."

"No, Grantaire-"

"You don't have to apologize."

"I do, but-"

"It's my fault for making you uncomfortable."

" _Listen_ ," Enjolras snapped. "It's not a rejection. Combeferre was wrong. His heart was in the right place but he doesn't speak for me."

Grantaire was silent for a moment. "You freaked out on me on Wednesday night."

"I was...surprised, that's all. Like I said, I'm not exactly good at expressing-"

"You, who can make public speaking sound like poetry."

"Well...that's flattering of you," Enjolras mumbled, "but yes. When it comes to something like this. Besides I’ve always been blunt about emotional matters. You know that.”

“Yes.” 

“And I’ve been a bit of a wreck this week.” 

“I know.”

“I’m sorry, I said I wasn’t going to make excuses. I never meant to hurt you, is what I wanted to say.”

“So it’s not a rejection?”

“It’s not.”

Grantaire shifted, leaning closer as he switched positions. “What exactly do you want to happen, then?”

“Well…” Enjolras hadn’t exactly planned out much, aside from finding Grantaire. “I wanted to apologize.”

“You’ve done that. Um, accepted,” he threw out, as if it were unimportant. 

“Okay.” Enjolras paused, taking a breath. “Then, I...I think I want to go out tonight.”

“What? With me?”

“Yes. We can go dancing, like you wanted to.”

“Dancing?” Grantaire laughed in disbelief. “But what about your headache.”

“I’m better now that we’ve come inside.”

“What about what you said last time, about being in a crowd again?”

“I can handle it now.”

“What about your bandage? With all the smoke and lights in nightclubs-”

“Got any gauze?”

“Ha. No.”

“We can buy some.”

“And are you planning on wearing what you’ve got on?”

“Lend me something nice.”

“I don’t know, Enj. Maybe it was just a dumb idea anyway. It hasn’t even been a week. It’s been what, five days? I don’t think the doctor would-”

“Let me decide for myself,” Enjolras pleaded. “I want to _do_ something. I’m sick to death of sitting around, it’s killing me.” 

Grantaire let out a long sigh. “...Alright.”

“I mean, as long as you want to go out, too,” Enjolras added hastily. “I can understand if-”

“I’d like to, Enj. Let me cook us some dinner and then we can get ready to go out later, okay?”

“Okay,” Enjolras sighed in relief.

“Now to see what you’ve done to my poor guitar,” Grantaire said, leaving the couch to unzip the case and inspect it, as Enjolras felt his cheeks go red.

Grantaire seemed to be studying it for a while. "I tripped," Enjolras added hesitantly. "I didn't know it was there."

"It's alright, Enjolras. I can fix it." 

As it turned out, the guitar would be repairable without any damage to the sound quality, and Grantaire assured him it was just a small patch-up job. Afterward, Grantaire began cooking dinner, and Enjolras hovered around the kitchen just to stand near him, even though there was nothing he could do. But he couldn’t help feeling like there was an invisible barrier between them that hadn’t been there before, and Grantaire was still keeping his hands to himself. Enjolras wasn’t sure what asking him out had meant. The change in their dynamic was palpable, even though Grantaire had accepted his apology.

Impulsively, Enjolras drew closer to Grantaire as he was stirring a pot at the stove, leaning in and pressing his nose to the back of Grantaire’s neck, his fingers grasping lightly at his shirt. _We can touch each other again, right?_

“Stop it,” Grantaire hissed. 

Enjolras gasped and took a step back.

“Stop being cute,” he finished teasingly. “You’re breaking my heart.” He turned and took Enjolras’s hand. “I told myself last night I was going to learn to toughen up. You’re making it hard.” 

That was all it took for Grantaire to warm up to him, and as they ate the pasta that Grantaire made he was seemingly back to his cheerful self. After dinner, Grantaire spent a while in his closet trying to decide how to dress them, and Enjolras stood waiting, his eyes wandering around Grantaire’s bedroom, trying to discern what it looked like. _What is that?_ he thought, seeing a soft glow and a flicker of movement in the corner. He stepped closer, hand held out curiously, and as his fingers made contact, they came back wet. “You have fish?” he asked, shaking his hand dry.

“A fish. Just one, Myriel. He’s getting pretty old though, for a fish,” Grantaire said from the closet.

Enjolras smiled, wondering what else Grantaire had around, walking along the edge of the room until his fingers brushed across something black and white, Grantaire’s keyboard. He pressed down experimentally, expecting the sound of a piano, but instead it emitted an electronic tone of sorts.

“I’ve been trying to record some stuff. I don’t know,” Grantaire said offhandedly.

“You mean, you’ve been writing music?” Enjolras asked. 

“Not exactly. Just messing around. Here,” he said, coming up behind Enjolras, holding up a shirt. “Try this on.”

“It doesn’t say anything on it, does it?”

“Would I do that to you?”

“Yes,” Enjolras said indignantly.

Grantaire laughed and handed the shirt over, something soft and black with long sleeves, which Grantaire rolled up for him part way once he had changed into it. “There, that’s better. Your jeans should be fine though.” 

After Grantaire had changed his own clothes, wearing something blue, he spent some time brushing Enjolras’s hair. He assured him he was making him look more presentable, yet Enjolras thought Grantaire was doing it simply because he enjoyed brushing his hair. He had to admit it felt nice even so. “Are you planning to spend this long on your own hair?” Enjolras asked airily.

“Mine’s different. I look best when it’s messy, it works for me.”

“Oh, I see,” he replied, tossing his head.

When they were both ready, Grantaire left first for the pharmacy out on the corner to buy gauze, while Enjolras stayed in to call Combeferre.

“Hey,” Combeferre answered with some relief. “It’s been so long, I was worried.” 

“Everything’s alright. No need to worry.”

“Are you with him now?”

“Yes. Or well, I’m at his place. We’re about to go out.”

“Go out?"

"Dancing."

"Do you mean… like on a date?”

Enjolras bit his lip. “It might be. I’m not sure,” he laughed.

“Well, have fun and be safe.”

“I will.”

“Enj.” 

“Hm?”

“Do you forgive me?”

“Yes. I’d say we’re even now.”

“Even?”

“The other night. You had to take my drunk ass home.”

Combeferre laughed. “Indeed. ”

Enjolras regaled him with his adventure walking half-blind and confused through the streets, subjecting himself to Combeferre’s stern admonishments, but soon enough Grantaire had returned. He bid Combeferre goodnight and hung up, then sat patiently as Grantaire wrapped him up again. “I should have gotten you something sexier,” Grantaire admitted. “Like a blindfold. Nobody would know you were injured, they would just think we were creative or something.”

Enjolras laughed and shook his head. “Kinky, you mean.”

“Yes, that.” Grantaire secured the bandage. “There. We’re good to go.”

It was a relief to finally rest his eyes again, and he took Grantaire’s hand gladly as he led him from the apartment, down the stairs, and back out into the street. “It’s a bit of a walk,” Grantaire said. “Are you okay with that?”

“As long as you’re guiding me, I’ll be okay.” Enjolras smiled as Grantaire squeezed his hand. “Do you think I’d still be wandering around if you hadn’t found me?”

“It doesn’t matter. I did.” 

Enjolras followed along beside him as they crossed block after block, right, left, left, right again, left again. Finally, after a twenty minute walk, Grantaire told him he could see the club up the block. “Have you ever been here before?” Enjolras asked. 

“Many times. We have to wait in line for a moment. Stand here.” 

Enjolras heard a pair of girls chattering in front of them, and waved away the scent of their cigarettes from his nose. He had tuned out their conversation until he heard them giggling.

“What happened to you?”

It took him a few seconds to realize the question might be aimed at him. “Nothing,” he answered dismissively. He reached out, feeling for Grantaire, unable to find him.

“Oh, oh, Enj, I’m right here.” Grantaire stepped in from the other direction. “Here, do you have your ID?”

Enjolras took out his wallet and felt for the first slot, slipping the card out. 

“Thanks,” Grantaire said, taking it from him. The girls in front of them were walking forward and they followed. “There are some steps, here, going up,” he said as as he guided him to the door. Once they were inside, he led him down a hall and now he could hear the bass, making the floor underneath him resonate. “And now we’re going down.” Grantaire led him down another short flight of stairs and suddenly the music was drowning everything out as a door opened.

“Here,” Grantaire said loudly against Enjolras’s ear, handing his ID back. “You’re lucky they didn’t ask to see your face under there,” he joked, tugging him through the doorway.

Enjolras gasped, feeling the bass pounding all around him, vibrating him from head to toe. _Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea..._ The room seemed to be pressing in around him, with sound his only sensory input, that and Grantaire’s hand on his own. He wondered if people were looking at him, how out of place he was.

“C’mon!” Grantaire said, pulling him across the room and picking out a spot. 

“Are we on the dancefloor now?” Enjolras shouted back.

“Yea! Let’s dance!” 

Grantaire let go of his arm and Enjolras stood uncertainly. Without seeing anyone else he felt as if he were the only person there, and he was never much of a dancer to begin with. “Enjolras!” Grantaire said, trying to encourage him. “We came here to dance, so do it!”

“Are _you_ dancing?”

“Yes!!”

When again Enjolras hesitated, Grantaire put his hands on Enjolras's shoulders and moved him back and forth to the beat. "Alright, alright," Enjolras said with a laugh, swaying his hips to go along with it. Grantaire let him go and Enjolras began to find the rhythm without his help, relaxing as he allowed the music to guide him. _I...I think I like this,_ he thought, finding himself smiling. He wasn't even familiar with the song, or the next, but it didn't matter. Suddenly he found himself channelling all his idle frustrations into something that felt good. As the bass pulsated through him, it was as if he were freeing himself from the cage that held him captive since he lost his sight.

"Who knew you could dance?" Grantaire's voice was right there, over his shoulder. Enjolras hadn't realized Grantaire had moved to dance behind him.

"Like what you see, Grantaire?" Enjolras asked sarcastically, highly doubting he had any natural talent.

"Very much," he purred back, his breath warm against his ear. Enjolras felt Grantaire's hands slide over his hips and tug him backward, their bodies suddenly fitting together. Grantaire’s hips moved with Enjolras’s, rubbing up against him, and Enjolras shivered pleasantly. He leaned back against Grantaire and allowed him to guide his body.

 _Is this what it would feel like?_ he caught himself wondering. _If we..._ He felt Grantaire’s breath against his cheek, his fingers holding tightly to Enjolras’s hips as they danced in unison. With their bodies pressed together it wasn’t hard to imagine what it it might be like if they were back at Grantaire's apartment and-

Enjolras gasped softly as he realized he was growing aroused in public, and with Grantaire’s hands so near. Blushing, he turned to face him, undoing the top button of his shirt before setting his hands on Grantaire’s shoulders, keeping his hips away at a distance. “You okay?” Grantaire asked. 

Enjolras nodded, panting a little. “Just getting a little hot,” he said over the music.

Once he was certain his arousal had gone back down, he allowed himself to dance closer to Grantaire again. He liked being able to feel Grantaire moving with him, to feed off his energy, and it was better than the feeling of being the only one in the room when he was dancing alone. Grantaire pulled him closer and leaned his forehead to his, their noses pressed together, Enjolras’s half covered by the bandage.

They danced song after song, one fading into the other, until finally Enjolras’s endurance began to flag. He let go of Grantaire, catching his breath. “Could you get some water for me at the bar?” he asked loudly.

“Uhhh, yea. Okay. I’ll be right back!”

“Grantaire! Don’t leave me standing here!”

“Oh!” Grantaire took his hand and guided him across the room. “Sit here,” he said, gently pushing him down onto a couch. “Right here. Don’t move, I’ll be back.” 

“Okay.” Enjolras leaned back against the cushions, brushing away the sweat on his forehead. He sat calmly at first, but started to fidget as Grantaire took a bit longer than expected. _There’s probably a line,_ he guessed, hoping that no one was staring at him, and worried he was vulnerable sitting here alone. Anyone could come up to him, to take his hand and pull him into the crowd, and he shuddered at the thought, unwelcome memories of the protest returning. _Hurry up, Grantaire._ The beat pounded around him, and now that he wasn’t dancing it became invasive again, reminding him of the rhythmic surge of the crowd, pushing him into the iron barricade in wave after wave. _Please, come back..._

And suddenly, strangely, everything went silent.

He tensed, gripping the couch, listening, wondering if by some cruel turn of events he had gone deaf, but the floor had stopped vibrating beneath him, indicating the bass had ceased completely. His heart began to race, the absence of sound frightening him. There were no conversations, no people. “Hello?” he started quietly. “Grantaire?” He stood up slowly, sticking his fingers beneath his bandage and lifting it. 

He sucked in his breath as a web of neon lights flashed before him, and closed his eyes quickly, pulling the bandage back into place. _What’s going on?_ He put his hands out in front of him and walked forward, step after step, feeling around for something as he went further into the room, but there was nothing, and no one. He stood bewildered, feeling as if he had fallen into a dream and trying not to panic.

Then finally, footsteps. “Oh!”

“Grantaire!?”

The sound of a lightswitch. “Sorry, sorry!” 

“What’s happening?” Enjolras ventured to lift up his bandage again to see the shape of Grantaire standing alone in front of him. He blinked, confused, still seeing colored lights flickering around, but the main overhead lights were on now. “Where are we?”

“Uh.” Grantaire cleared his throat. “The basement of my apartment building. It’s kind of a rec room.”

“What!?” Enjolras pushed the bandage up to his forehead and looked around, trying to discern their surroundings. There was the couch, a little rotating ball of sorts where the lights were coming from, and a large shape in the corner which must have been a stereo. “But…we left...” 

“...We walked around in a circle. I mean, we deviated here and there but ultimately a circle.” 

“We waited in line…”

“Those girls live upstairs, we just followed them inside when they went in. And the stereo’s not even mine. Belongs to my landlord. Good thing no one lives directly above, or I might be in trouble right now, with all the noise.”

“You asked for my ID.”

“I had to be convincing, didn’t I? And you didn't even ask how much it cost to get in.”

“I-I’ve never been to a dance club. And _still_ haven’t,” Enjolras complained.

“Hey now, don’t be upset,” Grantaire said, stepping closer.

“You tricked me! You said y-you...” 

“Weren’t you having fun?” He handed over the cup of water.

“What took you so long?” Enjolras grumbled, sipping the water.

“Five flights up and five flights down and my thighs are already burning from dancing.” 

“You made us dress up.”

“You look good. Besides, I only got the idea when I went over to the pharmacy. Saw the party lights in the junk aisle and thought, well, we can just stay here and have fun. I set it up before I came and got you.”

“And the music?” 

“I told you, I was recording things. It’s a big mix I made, I’m practicing transitions and-”

“You _made_ the music?”

“Yea. Well, I mean, not the original songs of course, but the whole remix, and the back beats. Guess the file wasn’t exactly long enough to last the night. It was playing the whole time we were out walking.” 

“Huh,” Enjolras said, drinking his water vacantly. 

“Did...did you like it? The mix?” 

“Yes.”

“And the dancing?”

“Yes. But why…”

Grantaire came closer and put his hand on Enjolras’s cheek. “You haven’t gone out dancing. Clubs can get so claustrophobic that there’s hardly any space to move. Drunk people fall into you, random people touch you. And sometimes that's okay. But not like this, not when you can’t see anything around you. You would hate it. And I realized that when I was buying your bandage. I wanted you to be safe, and have fun. We did that, right?” 

Enjolras nodded reluctantly, realizing he was ultimately right. “Were you going to tell me?”

“I’m not sure,” Grantaire laughed softly. “I just wanted you to have a good time, that’s all. You did, right? You liked dancing with me?” 

Enjolras leaned his cheek into Grantaire’s touch. “I did...”

“You wanna go back upstairs?”

Enjolras hesitated. “One more.”

“Sure,” Grantaire said cheerily.

“Maybe not so loud this time?”

“Hold on…” Grantaire took the cup from Enjolras and went over to the stereo. Instead of turning his remix back on, he put on something softer, slower. He returned to Enjolras and put his hands on his waist, Enjolras reaching up reluctantly to place his hands on Grantaire’s shoulders. 

“I was a little scared,” he admitted as they slowly danced together. “When the music went off.”

“I didn’t mean for that to happen.” 

“I guess...considering the emotional turmoil I put you through, I might have deserved it.”

“Shh. Don’t think like that. Unless it means you’re not going to be mad at me, then I suppose that’s okay.” 

“I’m not mad.” Enjolras leaned in and laid his head on Grantaire’s shoulder, closing his eyes.

“Good.” Grantaire stroked Enjolras’s back, as they swayed slowly in place. “And to answer your question,” he whispered softly. “Yes.”

“What question?”

“The other night. You asked me if I loved you. If i was _in_ love with you.”

Enjolras raised his head, wishing he could look into Grantaire’s eyes, or see his face. Instead he raised his hand, his fingers finding Grantaire’s cheek and tracing across his lips. He felt the corners of his mouth turn up in a smile beneath his touch. “And you are?”

“Yes,” he said, kissing Enjolras’s fingers. 

Enjolras was quiet, slowly drawing his hand away. Then he leaned in, nosing him, feeling Grantaire’s breath against his lips, and kissed him. Even if he didn’t know the right words to say, he could do this. Grantaire sighed against his mouth and kissed back, abandoning their dance and holding him close. Enjolras had never kissed before, but he let Grantaire show him how, slowly mimicking his soft kisses. 

When the music ended, Enjolras pulled back, seemingly coming out of a trance. “Upstairs,” Grantaire urged gently, and he nodded in agreement. He watched as Grantaire went to turn off the stereo, and the globe on the floor where the colored lights were coming from. 

“Why did you get that?” Enjolras asked, amused. “You knew I couldn’t see anything, really.”

“For _me_ , for fun, what’s wrong with that?” Grantaire said. “Plus it’s now my little contribution to the rec room. That and my awesome mix,” he laughed, taking Enjolras’s hand and leading him back out of the room.

“Your mix, yes. A man of many talents,” he said as they slowly made their way up the stairs. “Next you’ll be telling me you wrote that Achilles story about us.”

“What? No!” Grantaire said, embarrassed. “Would that I could write like that…I promise, when you can see again, you’ll see it’s a real book.”

“I’d like to hear the rest, it was nice,” Enjolras admitted. “And I pray I’ll be able to read again,” he added sadly.

“I think so. And even if you are a little visually impaired from now on, I happen to know you’d look incredibly sexy in glasses.”

Enjolras snorted. “How do you know that?”

“Because you’re always sexy,” he teased. “Plus I may or may not have put some thought into it. Just in case, you know.”

“Oh, I see,” Enjolras smirked. 

"Do you?" Grantaire whispered snarkily, as Enjolras gave him a shove.

When they got up to the apartment, Enjolras tossed the bandage off his forehead and headed to the bathroom, unbuttoning his borrowed shirt. Grantaire stuck his head in the door. "Can I...shower with you again?" he asked tentatively. 

"I was already planning on it."

Grantaire hurried in and started undressing too. They got into the shower together, alternating between lathering themselves and standing under the hot water to wash off the soap. "Wait," Enjolras said, as he moved out of the water to switch with Grantaire again. "Let me wash your hair."

"Really?"

"You did mine the other night. I'll do yours." 

Grantaire pushed the bottle of shampoo into his hand, lowering his head and allowing Enjolras to massage the soap into his hair. Enjolras scritched at his scalp calmly, enjoying it. The simple act of doing something for someone else, seemingly for the first time since his vision had gone, felt amazing, and Grantaire had done so much for him these past few days. He guided Grantaire under the water and helped wash the suds away, as Grantaire made soft sounds of pleasure in his throat.

And then Enjolras grew curious.

When it seemed the soap had gone, he lowered his hand, sliding it down Grantaire's body, his fingers brushing across Grantaire's cock and finding it erect.

"Oh!" Grantaire gasped, but then relaxed when Enjolras didn't pull his hand away.

"You're hard," Enjolras said softly.

"Y-yea."

“Were you aroused when we showered before?” he asked, venturing to let his hand stroke the length of Grantaire's cock, exploring how it felt.

“T-the first time,” Grantaire stuttered. “But I wasn’t going to-”

“I know. You didn’t,” Enjolras agreed.

“Uh-huh.” 

"I appreciate your... self-control. Was it difficult?"

"Yea..." Grantaire sighed, as if he weren't exactly listening, rubbing himself gently against Enjolras's hand.

"You'll have to forgive me for the other night when I was frightened by...this," Enjolras said, as he stroked his cock shyly. "I'm not exactly experienced like you."

Grantaire suddenly straightened, catching Enjolras's wrist. "I-I'm not, though. Really."

"You're not?" he asked, baffled, pulling his hand back. "But you don't seem that way at all. You drink, and party and-"

"And have plenty of experience with rejection, I told you," Grantaire finished. "No one ever looked my way. That was all before I met you, though. No one mattered after you."

Enjolras blushed. "Why wouldn't anyone look your way?"

"Oh, c'mon, Enj. I'm not much to look at."

"Well, don’t worry, I can't see a thing.” He realized the implication only after he said it, but Grantaire let out a laugh. “I-I only meant that it doesn’t matter to me anyway,” Enjolras corrected. “But I like the way you look.”

“Are you sure you even remember?” 

“I remember,” Enjolras huffed. “You’ve got blue eyes and....” He reached up, carefully tracing Grantaire's face with his fingertips. “A long nose. It’s probably your most prominent feature…”

“I’m self-conscious about it.”

“Don’t be, it suits you. You have a nice jawline too,” he said as his fingers glided across it. “Feels handsome to me.”

“Stop,” Grantaire said, pushing him gently.

Enjolras grinned. “And your lips…” he continued, brushing his fingers lightly across them. Grantaire took hold of Enjolras’s hand and brought two fingers into his mouth, sucking them, and Enjolras forgot what he wanted to say.

Grantaire sucked from the base of his fingers to the tips, drawing them out of his mouth. “You were saying?” he asked.

“They were nice to kiss,” he said softly, knowing Grantaire could see he had aroused him.

Grantaire pushed him up against the shower wall and kissed him again, his fingers tangling into Enjolras’s hair as he pressed himself against him. Even in the hot shower, the tiles were cool against Enjolras’s back and he shivered, goosebumps rising all over his body. He could feel Grantaire’s cock against his own and he moaned against his lips, wanting to rub up against him. Instead he simply kissed him back, pulling at his lips before parting his own to let Grantaire’s tongue slip inside.

When Enjolras pulled back panting to pause for breath, he leaned his head back against the wall, his wet hair tousled and sticking to the tiles. “I wanted to tell you,” he breathed softly. “After you left the other night...I was left wondering what it was, that aroused you.“

“It…it was…well…it’s so stupid but... it was you and the ice cream. That way you looked, with your tongue and all, ” Grantaire said reluctantly. “I didn’t mean to be into it, but it was so hard to look away.”

“Were you imagining me using my mouth on you?” 

"...Yes..."

"I thought as much. And I admit I touched myself, thinking of it."

“Y-you did? Thinking about...going down on me?”

“And…you doing the same to me.” 

Enjolras gasped as Grantaire dropped down to his knees on the spot, looking up at him. “Say the word,” Grantaire whispered. "And I will, gladly."

Enjolras felt Grantaire's hands upon his thighs, the boy nearly begging at his feet, and he feared once again he wouldn't have the right words to say to him. He was speechless for a moment, his heart caught in his chest. But then he thought about what his body was telling him, the way Grantaire's touches made him feel, and the answer was simple. He took a deep breath. "Go ahead," he replied softly, lowering his hands and placing them in Grantaire's wet hair, drawing him closer. Grantaire leaned in, and suddenly Enjolras felt his tongue delicately sliding up his cock. He gasped, trying to steady himself, his fingers grasping tightly in Grantaire’s hair. “I-I’m gonna fall,” he warned, fearful.

“I’ve got you,” Grantaire said soothingly, his steady hands pressing Enjolras’s hips firmly against the wall. 

Enjolras took another breath and relaxed his hold on him, nodding. “Okay.” He felt Grantaire’s lips against his cock, placing gentle kisses up his shaft, before dragging his tongue along it again, and again. Enjolras arched up, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. His mouth fell open but no words came out, only his soft breaths. He stiffened and cried out as Grantaire drew the head of his cock into his mouth, and he felt Grantaire hesitate. "G-good, it's good," Enjolras hastened to assure him, stroking his hair in praise. 

Grantaire shivered under his touch, a groan escaping his throat, and as he did his mouth vibrated all around his cock. Enjolras whimpered, his toes tensing on the tile floor as Grantaire sucked at the head, his tongue curling around it. He wanted to push further into his mouth, but instead he kept as still as possible in quiet frustration, enjoying what he could, not wanting to be greedy. 

But he got his wish as Grantaire opened his mouth and took him in further, and Enjolras couldn't help himself now, gently rolling his hips, struggling against Grantaire's hands pinning him to the wall. Grantaire relented, lessening his grip and allowing him to move within his mouth. Seeming to grow more confident, Grantaire sucked harder, accommodating Enjolras's thrusts.

Enjolras felt his climax building, a sensation more intense than any he had ever felt alone, and his hands shook as he held Grantaire's head. He knew he was about to come, and yet he couldn't let it end. _I want more. I need more._ "Stop," he panted, pushing him back, overwhelmed and dizzy, his head spinning in the steaming heat of the shower.

Grantaire released him and looked up. "You okay?"

"Y-yea. Stand up," he said, his hand under Grantaire's chin urging him upward.

Grantaire rose and caught his breath. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing. I...I wanted to tell you something else. Something else I thought about, the other night." 

“Okay,” Grantaire panted out.

“I...I wanted to know what it would feel like,” Enjolras said carefully, hoping Grantaire would get the hint.

“Feel like to...what?” Grantaire urged him. 

Enjolras decided it suited him better to be blunt, and slowly turned to face the wall, his sensitive cock brushing against the tiles. Arching his back, he presented to Grantaire. “Fuck,” he said quietly over his shoulder, barely audible over the water.

Grantaire understood this time. “Enjolras,” he said, shocked. “Is that...is that something you want? Right now?”

“You were halfway there when you were dancing with me.” Enjolras found himself again wishing he could look at him, and see his face. “It felt good.”

Grantaire turned off the water, leaving them in relative silence, as the last of the water went down the drain. “This is a _little_ different,” he reminded him. 

“D-do you not want to?” Enjolras said, turning around again, embarrassment looming over him. _Do I always say the wrong things?_

“N-n-n-no, I do, I _do_. Enj…” Grantaire took Enjolras’s face in his hands, gently brushing his damp hair from his forehead. “I’m just not sure why...you... do. Would you want to be with me, just like that?”

Enjolras felt frozen for a moment, unsure and thinking it over again, but then nodded. “You’ve been by my side all week, Grantaire. We’ve bathed together, we’ve slept beside each other. I trust you. I know that I can’t say the same thing you said to me, that you’ve been in love with me, and waiting for me. But I can say that this week has really o-” Enjolras suddenly stopped, falling quiet and biting his lip.

“What?” Grantaire prompted.

“Nevermind, it’s nothing.”

“...Were...you going to say ‘opened your eyes?’ Because it sounded like you were going to say ‘opened your eyes.’”

“Yes,” Enjolras grumbled trying not to make a face. 

Grantaire laughed and kissed his nose. “Go on.”

“A-all I’m saying is that..you being with me has meant so much. And I want to be with you. It hurt, thinking that you wouldn’t come back, that I had lost everything that had been built between us. All because I didn’t understand how to speak about these kind of things. I didn’t know if I ever wanted to be with someone. And I didn’t realize until now that it _is_ something I want.” Enjolras reached for Grantaire’s hand, catching hold. “I like it when you touch me,” he added softly. 

“I do too.” Grantaire brought Enjolras’s hand to his lips and kissed it. “Did you like me going down on you?”

“Yes,” Enjolras nodded.

Grantaire led him from the shower then, and handed him a towel to wrap up in. After they had dried themselves, they walked naked to the bedroom and Grantaire pulled back the covers for Enjolras to slip under the sheets. “Are you sure about this?” Grantaire asked, his voice a whisper as he turned out the lights and got in the bed beside him.

“Grantaire, I…” Enjolras took a breath, completely calm. “I’ve spent this whole week waiting for something to change, to stop feeling so helpless and empty. I want to feel good again, I want to feel like can make a choice, and make something happen for myself. And I want to make you feel good, too. If you’re afraid of ruining me, well, trust me, I know what it’s like to feel ruined, and I know that anything I’m asking you to do right now could never make me feel that way. So as long as you want to, then yes, I’m sure. You know I’ve never been patient.”

Grantaire laughed softly, moving closer and sliding an arm around him. “Once you decide on something, you like to make it happen,” he agreed. “A man of action.” 

Enjolras hesitated. “Do you have what we need?”

“I have lubricant, yes. I may be my only lover but I treat myself well,” he said playfully.

“Now that I’m joining you, I hope you can offer me the same treatment,” Enjolras replied.

“Of course.” Grantaire ran his hand across Enjolras’s belly and over his chest, his fingers wandering idly. Enjolras realized that Grantaire was as blind as he was in the dark, and knowing that the two of them were just as virginal and inexperienced as the other, Enjolras felt a rush of joy. They were truly on equal footing here in this bed. Grantaire’s hand paused over Enjolras’s heart. “Are you nervous?” 

“No,” Enjolras replied, smiling, his heart pounding fast in his chest. “I’m happy.” 

Grantaire leaned in, nosing him to find his lips, and kissed him. His hand moved up to Enjolras’s shoulder and pushed him down to lie flat on the mattress as he climbed over him. Grantaire leaned down and left a trail of kisses on Enjolras’s neck, enjoying his freedom to play with Enjolras’s body. _My seeing eye dog is now just a puppy,_ Enjolras thought as he stroked Grantaire’s dark curls. He was endearing like this, and his energy was contagious. Enjolras found that they were both hard again, eager and excited, their hands groping clumsily at each other in the darkness. 

“How do you want it?” Grantaire asked breathlessly.

Enjolras pushed him back gently and turned over onto his belly. “Like this, I think,” he said over his shoulder. “When I imagined it, you were behind me.”

“That’s fine with me. I’ve imagined doing everything with you,” Grantaire admitted. He leaned over to the nightstand and fumbled in the drawer. Soon after, Enjolras felt Grantaire’s fingers, cold and slick, brushing up against his ass. He lifted his hips up off the bed, spreading his thighs, and found himself wondering why he was comfortable with this intimacy that so easily could have been humiliating. But all this week, Grantaire had won his trust, guiding his hands, his feet, his mouth, and now it only felt natural to let him guide the rest. Grantaire had already seen him at his most vulnerable, and it wasn't here and now. 

Enjolras gasped as he felt one of Grantaire’s fingers push inside him, but much to his relief, it didn’t hurt. “Keep going,” he said softly, anticipating Grantaire’s hesitation. 

“Alright.” He felt Grantaire push in another finger, and Enjolras eased himself back against them. “It’s not bad, is it?” Grantaire asked, slowly moving his fingers in rhythm to get him used to it.

“Not bad, no,” Enjolras repeated, though there was an element of discomfort now, and he willed his body to relax at the intrusion. “O-oh!” he suddenly cried, as Grantaire’s fingers hit the right spot. “B-better.”

“I think it’s safe to say you haven’t tried this alone,” Grantaire commented, keeping his fingers there and massaging him.

Enjolras shook his head, pressing his forehead to the mattress and rutting in the air as Grantaire’s fingers moved within him. The same frustration he had felt at not getting enough, when Grantaire went down on him earlier, came back to him now as he grew acclimated, his hands curling into fists in the sheets. “I-I’m ready,” he promised. 

Grantaire pulled his fingers back slowly, and Enjolras let out a whimper unbidden as they left. “I’m coming back, I promise,” Grantaire teased. Enjolras felt him get up on his knees behind him, settling in place, and then his hand once again on his ass, bracing himself. Enjolras's heart hammered steadily in his chest, his body surging with anticipation. 

He sucked in his breath as he felt Grantaire pushing into him, slowly sheathing his cock inside. It was certainly thicker than his two fingers had been, and Enjolras dug his hands into the sheets again, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to remember to breathe. He wondered if he had been too quick to move on from his fingers. "Am I hurting you?" Grantaire asked, concerned.

"No," Enjolras said, shaking his head. "Just give me a moment." Grantaire kept still, holding onto his hips, his fingers tracing little circles on his skin in an attempt to comfort him. But Enjolras steeled himself, shifting his hips from side to side experimentally before pushing back against him, taking him in all the way. "I'm okay," he managed, getting used to it, wanting the feeling he had from Grantaire's fingers to return. "Go ahead."

Grantaire pulled back and thrust forward into him again, rocking Enjolras against the mattress. Enjolras couldn't help the sound he made, a groan that turned into a soft cry. He spread his thighs further, allowing Grantaire to take him completely, moving with him as he began to steadily thrust inside. He felt Grantaire's fingers tensing on his thighs, digging in, and heard his heavy breaths each time his hips drove forward. A spark of pleasure revived inside Enjolras as his body accepted Grantaire, and he closed his eyes, laying his head down on the bed and focusing on that small sensation within.

 _I need more._ The thought returned again, but he didn’t know how to alleviate his desire. _Do I tell him to go faster? Slower? Should I touch myself?_ He didn’t know what he wanted, only that he wasn’t getting the satisfaction he expected. “Grantaire,” he managed softly, squirming beneath him. “S-stop.” 

“Okay,” Grantaire said quickly, freezing in place. “Are you-”

“Back up,” Enjolras directed, and Grantaire pulled out of him. Enjolras sat up and took a deep breath, turning to him. “Lie down.”

Grantaire obeyed as Enjolras moved aside for him. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes,” Enjolras said distractedly, straddling him. He grasped Grantaire’s cock and lifted up his hips, easing himself back down onto it with a shuddering sigh. Now that he was on top, he could control how deep Grantaire was, and more importantly, make sure that he hit the right spot. 

“Better?” Grantaire asked in relief, lifting his hips to fuck him from below.

“Better,” Enjolras agreed breathlessly. And even more so, realizing he felt strong and commanding on top. Gone was the frightened Enjolras, newly injured and defenseless. He suddenly felt like his old self again, a fire lighting inside him. He arched his spine and moaned with pleasure as Grantaire’s cock rubbed inside him in just the right way. “Mmph...mm yes….”

"Enjolras," Grantaire panted. "You're so beautiful like this."

Enjolras was taken aback, drawn out of his sexual haze for a moment. "How do you know?" he countered. "You can't...nnh....see me."

"I don't need to see you, to know that you are. Mm, I can feel you, I can hear you. I can picture it so easily in my mind. You're fucking gorgeous."

Enjolras laughed and reached for his hand, finding it and feeling his rough fingertips against his own. He held it tightly, the hand that had been his lifeline the entire week, and he felt Grantaire’s hand squeezing back. “Grantaire,” he pleaded softly, guiding his hand down and placing it on his cock.

“Of course,” Grantaire complied, closing his hand around his shaft, stroking him in rhythm as Enjolras rode him. 

“Oh…oh god…” Finally, Enjolras had found what he wanted, Grantaire pleasuring him inside and out exactly as he needed. _Why didn’t we do this sooner?_ “Keep going,” he growled, when it seemed Grantaire was slowing down.

“I’m...I’m gonna…” 

“Wait,” Enjolras said desperately, riding Grantaire harder and thrusting into his hand. “Just a little more.” 

“Enjolras-”

“ _Grantaire...ah...ahh!!”_ Enjolras came, harder than he ever had before, his body tightening around Grantaire’s cock. He felt Grantaire shuddering beneath him, but he was barely aware as the pulsing waves of pleasure coursed through him. With his release, all his frustration seemed to melt away, leaving him relaxed and spent. He sat panting over Grantaire, slowly coming down off his high. “Did you..?”

“Y-yea,” Grantaire answered, his chest heaving. 

Enjolras lifted up and off of Grantaire, dismounting him. He was about to lay down beside him when Grantaire got up from the bed and disappeared into the bathroom for a moment. “Grantaire?” He heard the sink running, and Grantaire returned quickly with a warm washcloth. 

“Here,” he said, handing it over as he sat back down on the bed beside him.

“Thank you,” Enjolras said, grateful for his care. He reached down tentatively to clean himself with the cloth, knowing he was already tender. 

“How was it?” Grantaire asked. 

“Good,” Enjolras said, breathing out a sigh of satisfaction. “It was good.”

“Did it hurt?” 

“At first, but it wasn’t bad. Not unexpected, anyway. I was a little over-eager. Next time...I suppose we could slow down a little,” he allowed.

“Next time?” Grantaire asked hopefully, laying back. 

Enjolras tossed aside the washcloth and settled beside him. “Well, yes, I think so, don’t you?”

“Yes, of course. I just wanted to know if...if we’re something now.” 

Enjolras lay his head on Grantaire’s chest. “We are something,” he said softly. “I think I may have known that since I left to come find you, without knowing what it meant. That I needed to be with you.” He heard Grantaire’s heart beating steadily beneath him, and the sound soothed him. _Maybe I’m falling in love, however that goes._

“We’re together now,” Grantaire confirmed, petting his hair. “I’ll be right here for you. And I promise I’ll always answer the phone.”

“Thank you.” Enjolras nuzzled into his neck and closed his eyes, as Grantaire pulled the blankets up over them. “I want you to keep reading to me. I want you to finish the book.”

“We will.”

“And, maybe once the guitar is fixed, you can teach me a little more.”

“Definitely. I look forward to it.” 

Enjolras let out a contented sigh. “ _You_ liked it, didn’t you?” he asked after a moment of quiet. “Just now?”

“Oh, let’s see. I got to be with the boy I love,” Grantaire purred, kissing his forehead. “I loved it.”

Enjolras raised his head and kissed him back. “Good.” Laying back down, relaxed and exhausted, he fell asleep to the lull of Grantaire’s heartbeat.

In the morning, he woke and stretched, feeling a soreness all over his body. The memories of the night before returned instantly as he felt Grantaire’s naked body up against him… the sex, the dancing, Grantaire rescuing him as he wandered the street in search of him. He opened his eyes slowly, blinking in the morning light, and saw a fish, swimming idly in its tank in the corner. He gasped, his eyes widening. Things were still fuzzy in places, but the center of his vision was starting to come into focus. _Myriel the fish,_ he thought with a smile. His eyes travelled across the room, seeing Grantaire’s keyboard, a poster on the wall… _Pink Floyd, maybe?_... his desk, looking messy and disheveled, the nightstand, and a picture frame sitting on top. _Is that all of us?_ he wondered, seeing vague faces in the photo, but he knew it must be. And then he turned his eyes on Grantaire. His eyes were blue, just as he had remembered, and they were open, watching him peacefully. Enjolras felt tears welling up in his own.

“Enjolras?” Grantaire asked, raising his head.

“I….I can see…” Enjolras managed, almost laughing with joy. “It’s not perfect but...” Somehow, he knew now, it was going to be alright. He was going to get better, tomorrow he would see even more. He would find a way to thank his friends for taking care of him, and especially Grantaire, for all his love. His heart swelled with hope, and he smiled. “I can see you, Grantaire.” 

Grantaire smiled back, reaching up to brush a tear away from Enjolras’s cheek. “Finally.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed! Please drop me a comment if you wish.
> 
> This fic has art!
> 
>  [My art.](http://juanjoltaire.tumblr.com/tagged/blindjolras)
> 
>  [Art made by others.](http://juandaymore.tumblr.com/tagged/blindjolras) (If you would like to submit art please send me a message on tumblr and I will reblog (and get very excited)) 
> 
> Grantaire was reading Enjolras a real book, The Song of Achilles, which can be found [here.](http://www.amazon.com/Song-Achilles-Novel-Madeline-Miller/dp/0062060627/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1433998656&sr=8-1&keywords=song+of+achilles)


End file.
